Tomb Raider Volume 1: So Rises A Deacon
by MrTrojanHorse
Summary: Post-Rise. Pre-Shadow. Meet Muhammad, Trinity's newest soldier-for-hire. Young, idealistic and absolutely enthralled by the prospects of this shadowy organization. Follow him throughout his journey as he strives to ascend beyond the rank and file to become one of Trinity's most capable agents. Rated M for Mature. Coarse Language, Strong Violence & Sexual Themes. Volume 1/4.
1. It Begins

**Welcome to my story, dear reader. Timeline of this fic takes place between ROTR and SOTR and beyond. Watch the story unfold through the eyes of Trinity's newest recruit.**

 **I appreciate that you're spending your time in reading this and hope to hear of your thoughts in the review section. Do note that this story has been rebuilt from the ground up in order to make it bigger and better. The story itself 4 separate volumes with this one being Volume 1 out of 4.**

 **If there's anything you'd like to clarify with or to discuss, just send me a PM to my inbox.**

 **Many thanks,**

 **MrTrojanHorse**

 **Re-edited on: 07/03/2019**

 **Completed on: 18/04/2019**

* * *

The room was dimly lit, it's occupants shrouded in near-darkness yet continuing to tear into one another all the same.

A dingy looking lightbulb with its glass shell having long since frosted over and covered by a thick blanket of dust was its only source of illumination. It lies suspended above the ceiling on a thin cord of wire rod, gently swaying side-to-side with no telling when it'll snap and crack on some unfortunate soul's head. It was a miracle the damn thing's still functional.

The scenery outside's no better either. Just a long narrow corridor haunted by the deafening roar of the air ducts supplying breathable air several hundred feet from above the surface, and at the end of it lies an antiquated elevator; the only means to get back up to the surface. Trinity had this little hideout constructed sometime in the 1950s and has long since been abandoned, however, due to actions of the sole remaining bloodline to the Croft family rampaging across the world, seeking and destroying several of their power bases and safehouses, this obscure, outdated little hideout has found itself of use to its masters once more.

Earlier before just under an hour ago, a team of highly trained operatives - and they do not take the word _"highly"_ lightly _-_ had swept the room clear of bugs and other nasty listening devices. Even now as they dutifully monitor the symposium taking place, counter-countermeasures were on standby, ready to be deployed in case of emergency to ensure not even a whisper leaks out into the outside world.

Secrecy.

This was how the Order of Trinity had survived over the centuries as Man continues to evolve. From their fathers and their father's fathers, such has been their way of life. Watching, waiting, planning, conspiring from the shadows until the time is right to emerge and reclaim what is rightfully theirs; dominion over mankind as destined by God himself. But that day will not come so soon. Not until they manage to remove a certain misbegotten spawn of the late Baron Croft that is.

But that is not the agenda of this day's assembly. Oh make no mistake, Lara Croft's death shall come swiftly and with great prejudice in due time. Today, however, the powerful few, the High Council has congregated to vet shortlisted candidates selected for Deacon training.

Shouting, quarreling, chaos.

There was disunity amongst the High Council; the likes of which hasn't been seen not since the Industrial Revolution. And all the fuss over a certain candidate.

"Has Morowitz gone mad! Vouching for this heathen!?" Barks one of the councilmen with a heavy English accent as he pounds a meaty fist onto the flat surface of the table.

"Brother Augustus is right, this is madness!" rasps another as he holds back a cough, age having caught up to him sooner than he'd like.

The one known as Augustus promptly snatches the dossier of said candidate from the spindly fingers of his fellow councilman and continues. "Look at this! _'I_ _t is my personal request that the one be known as Muhammad be given the opportunity to rise as a Deacon!'_ Preposterous! Absolutely inconceivable! What next, do we start accepting the Jews into our ranks? We might as well! Look at us, accumulating our own little band of heretics and infidels. Won't our ancestors be proud?"

"Peace, Brother Augustus." rasps another in an attempt to soothe his friend's ire. "Agent Morowitz was one of our best shadow operatives. Long has he championed our cause with honor, loyalty, and distinction. If he has reason to vouch for the anomaly at hand, then we must trust his judgment."

"Blasphemy!" another Council member shouts from the edge of his seat. "I will not sit by idly and watch as our sacred order be desecrated by a perfidy's filthy footsteps! It's bad enough to have him legally bonded to us but _D_ _eaconhood_? Madness!"

"The only madness going on here is your shouting, if one of our top agents has reason to vouch for a _Muhammadan_ then he must be of some value to the Order. Shocked as I am, we must approach this rationally and not let our biases cloud our judgment."

"And what of the Church, hmm?" broods another as he gently taps on the lit cigar to flick off the burnt excess, all eyes focusing onto him. "When word of this reaches their ears they will surely excommunicate us for good! Our forefathers barely survived the _Great Purge_ centuries ago! It was with providence that we've managed to reconcile once more and to risk it all for having this...this _Muhammadan_ as a Deacon is too great of a risk. I fear for the future of the Order, should we allow him to ascend."

"The Church has bigger fish to fry Bartlett," smirks a councilman as he lazily inspects his wine glass before proceeding to give the blood red contents a gentle swirl, his dark orbs for eyes furrowed deep in thought before continuing with a sickly sweet murmur. "I doubt they'd give a damn even if we had elected an ape to sit on this council."

"I must admit these are interesting times, gentlemen," in swoops a new player, his face hidden from the light. Only the edges of his greying beard and could be seen yet all within the room recognize his voice.

"The prodigal son speaks at last." mumbles a councilman known as Grigori.

"Brother Grigori, do behave," whispers a nearby councilman exasperatedly at such blatant disrespect towards the head of their Order.

If the speaker was upset, he wasn't showing it, instead, he chooses to continue where he left off like the little barb hadn't any effect, to begin with. "-one where we must embrace the tides of change lest we are swept away by its raging current. So, I say," He claps his hands and pauses for effects. "put him into the program, let us see if Agent Morowitz's faith in the boy is not misplaced."

" _Yerunda! (Bullshit!)_! Ever the sentimental fool, Dominguez!" Scoffs Councilman Grigori derisively. "I'm not surprised you're vouching for this _Muhammadan_ seeing as you two have a lot in common."

"And what would that be, Grigori?" challenges Dominguez.

"Your upbringing from that pagan tribe of yours, no doubt this Godless bastard is cut from the same cloth as you. Not only would you have us consort with unholy powers but _now,_ you wish to induct a _Muhammadan_ into the ranks of our best troops!? You may be Cardinal Dominguez's little pet project but do not think yourself for even a second that you're above the Council to do whatever you please. And I for one, will _not_ have this heretic-" As he roars his defiance, thunderous applause from his supporters arose "- rise as a Deacon! It is the will of this Council, it is the will of God!"

"Hear, hear!" croaks a fellow supporter while the rest cheer and clap obnoxiously loud out of spite.

If anything, this made Dominguez seem to be amused by this spectacular display of resistance. "I always knew you were an ignorant fool whose mouth is inverse with the size of his brain, _Brother_ Grigori but you've far exceeded my expectations this time."

Councillor Grigori makes no effort in hiding his anger; clenching his teeth and balling his fists.

"Oh, and mention my past in a negative light one more time, I will see to it that you and your family disappear from the face of this earth." purrs Dominguez, his eyes twinkling with malice. "Make no mistake."

"Are you threatening me you barbarian upstart?" hisses Grigori, fists balled and daring the Paititi native to make his _day._ A shootout would definitely favor him well. His personal security team has the numerical advantage here. Dominguez only has Rourke and two Deacon operators idling outside whereas Grigori on the other hand, brought along two full Deacon squads who were all nicely lined up along the hallway. But he knows better than to just go in guns blazing, Dominguez is a sly one, with a few tricks up his sleeve. One simply does not survive this long as the head of Trinity by being a mere fool.

"No. Not a threat, a promise."

"Why you-"

"Gentlemen!" Lady Kimiko intervenes before things got ugly. Men and their raging testosterone levels. Most vexing. "Behave," her oriental accent was sultry yet laced with grace and venom. Sometimes, all it takes is a woman's touch. The room fell silent as she says her piece. "I believe most of us have forgotten the very core of what makes a Deacon. He is loyal, he is driven and most importantly, he has _faith._ His religion may be anathema to ours but the fact that he has made it here in this list tells me one thing. He has the qualities we seek, though not necessarily in a way we'd have expected. I say we put him in and let God decide."

"God's answer would be absolute. In no way would His holy order be tarnished with the presence of a heathen." hisses one.

"He'll be out by the end of the week," grumbles Augustus. "We have nothing to lose,"

"Aye, and even if he does make it through, we could just keep sending him on the most dangerous assignments where fatality and high attrition is assured."

"Like King David and Uriah, I like it."

"Agreed, I second the notion. The Church would have learned nothing if he's but a corpse."

"But what if he survives-"

"He won't."

"Then it is settled?"

"I believe it is."

The dossier of one Muhammad [REDACTED] Bin [REDACTED] was then placed neatly with the other accepted individuals.

"Right, moving on. Next candidate is Pichon Devereaux."

* * *

 _[EYES ONLY]_

 _Security Clearance Access: Level 8 & Above_

 _From: [REDACTED]_

 _Name: Muhammad [REDACTED] Bin [Redacted]_

 _Age: 24_

 _Nationality: Singaporean_

 _Race: Malay_

 _Religion: Islam_

 _Spoken languages: English [Fluent] Malay [Native] French [Intermediate] Arabic [Fluent] Turkish [Fluent] Mandarin [Intermediate] Farsi [Beginner]_

 _Occupation: Private Security Contractor - 5 Year Contract [2017-2022]_

 _Highest Education: Technical Diploma_

 _Height: 5'63_

 _Weight: 172 Ibs_

 _Psychological Evaluation: A pacifist by nature, Subject's positive and bubbly nature lets him get along well with his colleagues Under duress, has been known to crack and lose cohesiveness. Nevertheless, how he maintains such a high level of morale and remain in such a cheerful state within a high-stress environment continues to impress me. Towards the end of Operation [REDACTED], Subject was found with multiple lacerations across his arms and torso while at the same time carrying a fellow security contractor all the way out of the [REDACTED], refusing to leave the man's side in spite of his own injuries until proper medical care has been administered. Subject later confirms the wounds he suffered were the result of his confrontation with Croft. S_ _ubject claims to feel fine despite his first exposure to combat and is eager to return to active duty. Local Commanders are advised to keep Subject under close observation during field operations for any signs of Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorders [PTSD]. Refer to Addendum-01 attached below for symptoms of PTSD. Cleared Fit To Fight._

 _Date: [REDACTED]_

 _Signed: Dr [REDACTED]_

 _Side note: It is interesting to note that Subject was the only one out of the many security personnel under our employ to have ever held a civil conversation with Lara Croft as well as engage in hand-to-hand combat with her and lived to tell the tale. Subject wishes to engage Croft in combat once more, owing to the atrocious number of lives she'd taken during Operation [REDACTED]._

 _Relevant Experience:_

 _Security Detail, Turkey - Feb 2017_

 _Security Detail, Poland - May 2017_

 _Operation [REDACTED] - Nov 2017_

 _Referral 1: AGT. Dean Morowitz_

 _Comments:_ _It is my personal request that the one be known as Muhammad be given the opportunity to rise as a Deacon. He has displayed an extreme amount of resilience, tactical competence as well as a strong level of interest in deacon training. I believe despite our difference in religion he would make a great asset in furthering Trinity's goals in the near future._ _  
_

 _Referral 2: NIL_

 _Comments: NIL_

* * *

 **AN:**

 **Alright, let's have a little Q &A to help fill in some the gaps you guys might have.**

 **(Qn1) Will this story be focusing more on Lara or your OC?**

 _So throughout the entire series, I'll be focusing and revolving the story on my character, who I'll shamelessly admit he's an almost exact carbon copy of me because don't we all wanna be the guy to get even a chance to bang Croft? Yeah, think about it. This story's meant to shadow my OC throughout his journey in Trinity as he tries to make sense of it all and tries to stay ahead of the curve. He'll have a lot of to watch out for; Religious discrimination, Workplace politics, Incompetent leadership, Croft, need I say more?_

 **(Qn2) I like the new concept you've come up with but don't you think having a Muslim working for Trinity would raise a heck of a lot of eyebrows?**

 _Of course it will. I won't lie though, typing this out has been extremely tough, not to mention frustrating at times because of the vast differences in religion and Trinity as we all know from the lore are known for their zealotry. So, I need your support and trust that this will all work out._

 **(Qn3) So why create a character who's just an enemy grunt? I mean in the game they kinda die easily enough. Why not just create an OC who's some big bad badass like Konstantin or Rourke?**

 _Coming from a military background **[I was in the Infantry for 2 years. Short gig, I know but it was fun while it lasted.]** , I can relate really well __from a footsoldier's point of view_ _to what it feels like to do grunt work and this is one of the few things that I can play to my strengths in penning down towards making this story a success. I want to show the readers that we grunts - bad guys or not, each have a story to tell. That we're just as human as the next guy. We've got fears, hopes and dreams. That we're so much more than being just a bunch of unintelligent, faceless meatshields. Besides, you can't be a badass commander if you didn't have equally badass henchmen to carry out your plans, no?_

 **(Qn4) You do realize that SOTR takes place just 2 months after ROTR, right?**

 _Yes, people, I am aware that Shadow Of The Tomb Raider takes place 2 months after Rise, hence her storyline according to canon is still stuck in 2015. Personally, I feel that the canon timeline is too rushed in sending Lara headfirst into another dangerous adventure right after her tussle with Anna. Things work differently in my 'fic. Mainly because there's a gap of almost 3 years between Rise and Shadow. More than enough time for her to rest and recuperate before moving on to harass and destroy enough Trinity cells to actually hurt them._ _So this is how my Storyline plays out._

 _Tomb Raider - Mid 2013_

 _Rise - Late 2015_

 _Shadow - Late 2018_

 _ **[Side note]** Lara was born in 1993 so you do the maths in figuring out her age :)_

 **(Qn5) How exactly similar are you in real life as compared to your OC since you say he's an exact carbon copy?**

 _Okay, when I meant carbon copy, I really do mean that. He looks like me, same quirks as me, probably even sound like me. **[chuckle]**_

 **Aaaand, we've come to the end of our short Q &A! If you're still reading this then you guys are freaking awesome! Reviews are welcome and do drop a PM, I'd be delighted to respond and chat.**


	2. Another Day, Another Dollar

**And here we are, the first official chapter! Do enjoy :)**

 **SIDE NOTE, 07/07/18: White Collar, White Mask will be on hiatus for a very long time. Reason being my smartphone had a firmware crash and every file was lost including this story's Chapter 3.**

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: 12/09/18 Yes, I have watched SOTR Gameplay from start to finish. Y33t!**

 **Update on 08/03/2019 - Still no word on White Collar, White Mask. Soz boys and girls. Goddamn, there's a lotta DLCs for SOTR! Loving all the side missions, they fill up the plot real nicely. Oh, by the way, I'm now using this neat little thing called 'Grammarly' to assist me in fine-tuning my writing. This seriously lightens the stress of combing through so many words for a mistake to correct.**

 **Completed on: 19/04/2019**

 _"Remember folks, efficiency is clever laziness." - Echo, Siege Operator._

* * *

 _Vale Do Javari, Brazil_

 _2017_

 _Muhammad "Muzzie", Private Security Contractor_

Gloved hands grip the rocky edge before hoisting the rest of the body up.

"I. Fucking. Hate. This. Place!" grunts the owner of those hands as he lay on all fours, heaving. Finally, the masked man with the jungle hat stands up and proceeds to wipe his sweat with the shemagh wrapped 'round the neck. Sure all that trekking uphill and downhill with thirty kilograms worth of survival kit's starting to take a toll on the masked man's physique, but this was nothing compared to his duty tour in Brunei back in the Infantry. If hell was a jungle, Brunei would fit right in. There's a reason the Japanese left that tiny plot of land alone as they carved their way through Indochina back in the second world war.

"Look at this place," he spits, angrily glaring at the endless shades of brown and green for as far as his eyes could see. "Only a fucking ape would live here, what in the _fuck_ am I doing here?"

"Ey, Muzzie, gimme a hand will ya?" wheezes another voice from below.

"Aww fuck, hang on I'm coming." Setting his bullpup aside, the beleaguered mercenary gnashes his teeth, sucking in deep breaths as he helps his friend up. Muzzie, that was the nickname his teammates had given him. It was spoken of more in jest than an actual insult. Working with Trinity's field operators wasn't that bad at all. Initially, they treated him with hostility and suspicion as do all military men towards the FNG but he's grown on them ever since.

One may find Muhammad's position in the organization as scandalous as it could get. Perhaps even bordering on blasphemy since Trinity was not just militant but also religiously driven by the passion of Christ.

 _'Simply put, we do the Lord's dirty work.'_ a company executive had once said. Of course, the cheeky bastard even managed to slip in a little barb. _'I must confess I do hope you'd strongly consider leaving that pagan cult and join us for a sermon or two someday. You won't find salvation by praying five times each day to a black box in the middle of the desert. Our Lord is forever ready to embrace you in His loving arms.'_ That conversation could not get anymore awkward-er.

 _'"Uh, duly noted sir. One day perhaps."_ But what Muzzie really meant was ' _Ha-ha, no chance in hell. Fuck you, infidel.'_

"Thanks, man," the weary merc pats Muzzie on the shoulder with a tired smile before shambling past, exhaustion evident in his gait.

"Anytime Clarke," His team was made up of the old boys, old meaning those who had re-upped once their contract with Trinity was over. They were capable men each having impressive experience in field work before and during their contract with Trinity. In short, Muhammad was in good hands.

There was Clarke. Cool guy to hang with when not on shift. Says he's divorced but he keeps the ring on the finger, guess some things are too precious to part with. He's been deep in the shit, so to say. Kinda devout, maybe? Muhammad's seen him reciting some prayers before every meal. Go figure. The man served a tour in Iraq with the Marines before his discharge in '06. He spent the next few years back in the States, mostly floating around the West Coast, working the odd jobs in between before a friend got him settled down with Trinity as a security contractor. Best decision he's made so far, or so he says.

Tyoma, the Russian pretty boy. Prefers to be called ' Artyom'. Claims to be a direct descendant of the last Russian Tsar though he hasn't done squat to back up those heavy claims. ( _Yeah right, if he's a descendant of the Tsar then I'm Willy-fucking-Wonka)_ The guy looks like he belongs more in a Playboy magazine than out in the field spitting lead and getting his arse blown off halfway across the world. Tall, sharp piercing blue eyes, athletic build and wavy brown hair to boot. A real bonafide sex bomb and proud of it. He started off as a conscript just like Muhammad with the exception being he signed a bond with the Russian military after his mandatory service ended. But trouble began after he was caught for substance abuse and multiple cases of AWOL. They had him court-martialed, and when he'd served his time, they kicked him out. Guess he wasn't worth the trouble. He found himself on the ground right deep in the Ukrainian conflict and moved on to Syria soon enough, fighting ISIS alongside the Peshmerga. Now he works for Trinity.

And then there's Manuela, he was from Mexico. Grew up on a small farm with a name Muhammad couldn't pronounce without butchering the language. Nothing much to say about that aside from him being a major skeptic towards Trinity's cause. His chest is heavily tattooed with a weeping Jesus holding a golden sword so that kinda squares away just how fanatically devout he was towards his faith. Maybe it was enough for Trinity to keep him among their ranks? He doesn't like to share much about his past though they - _mess hall gossip per se_ , did mention he worked four years in a tactical unit busting up Cartel operations and another three years undercover.

Finally, we come to his team leader, Dean. No last name. Seriously. Muhammad isn't even sure if _'Dean'_ really is his real name. Oh well, no matter, at least he was forthcoming about his dark past. He did wetwork for nearly three decades in Trinity's Intelligence department. A better part of his life was committed to silencing any loose ends in Trinity's name. Of course, this was before they pulled him out due to psychological issues. Maybe life as an assassin didn't sit well with him. Nevertheless, his reputation as one of Trinity's longest-serving covert operator has earned him respect from those around him. And a crap ton of fear. As the saying goes, _'Beware of the old man in a profession where many die young'_.

It disturbs Muhammad greatly that the organization he works for dabbles in such dark practices. With their influence and power all over the world, one could have mistaken them for the Illuminati. Heck, maybe all those theories regarding the Illuminati were perhaps, in fact, referring to Trinity itself! And such thoughts terrify him.

 _What other ancient terrors lurk within the shadows of the 21st century?_

"C'mon Mo-Mo, hurry it up!" His thoughts were shifted back to Clarke throwing a hand signal at him to double up.

"I hate it when they call me that."

Slinging the SAR* ( _SAR-21. Standard issue assault rifle in the Singaporean Armed Forces)_ , our protagonist (?) continues his arduous journey within the rainforest of Brazil, destination unknown with twenty-five others.

 _3 hours later..._

"Alright, gents lets get those packs off! We'll rest here for an hour before moving on-" the rest of the orders were lost on Muhammad as he enthusiastically ditches his pack, rips off the Integrated Body Armor (IBA), jungle hat and that damn shemagh before lying down against his MATILDA pack's kidney pads.

As he wipes his sweat off with the scarf, all around one could hear men groaning and heaving in ecstasy as they settled down to rest.

 _"Ya Rabb_ ," _(Oh Lord)_ he wheezes, before shoving a Camelbak tube into his mouth. Stale water rushes down his throat with the flick of the switch. Feeling a little better, the newbie pops a couple of mentos. He needs his sugar level at an all-time high to keep him awake, otherwise, he'll probably just keel over and collapse from exhaustion.

"Oh Allah preserve me," he whimpers before irritation got the best of him. "Couldn't they have just heli-inserted us all the way to the objective instead of making us fucking hump the bloody hills, * _nabeh chibai! (Motherfucker)_ "

"Huh? I...don't understand what you meant but _da,_ the terrain surrounding the temple's too...uh," Tyoma goes silent, trying to think of the proper term that fits the description of this humid, green, hellhole.

"Um, dense?" supplies the newbie.

 _"Da, da._ Was looking for the word, dense. The closest our pilots could get to was the clearing we landed on this morning." says the Russian. " _Chyort_ , I don't think I keep up good doing this treasure hunting stuff. Should have fucking stayed in the Eastern European division. By the way Makhamed-"

"It's Muhammad, you fucking pundek*. ( _Cunt)_ Moo! Moo! My name doesn't start with a _Ma_!"

He was promptly replied with several contractors nearby hooting and imitating a cow. "Ya Allah, help me," sighs the exasperated mercenary. "Okay, okay enough! And then you say _Ha_ \- Use your throat, the throat!"

Some of thee men began singing _'Ha'_ at a really high pitch just to exaggerate.

"Haaaaaa~!" screeched one of the contractors followed closely by a "Shut the fuck up, Rodrick!"

"And _Mad_ like _Mud_ , not _Mad_. Not _Mah-Khamet_ , do I look like a Jew to you? And stop calling me _Mo-hammed_ either. Yall pronouncing it as an Indian would. It-it-it irritates the _fuck_ out of me, get my name right for fuck's sake!"

Of course, nobody listened for they were too busy laughing at the newbie's outburst.

"What kind of Indian we talking about? Is it the kind you meet behind the counter at Walmart or the one who wears jean jackets all day?" chortles Manuela as he ruffles his bug out bag for a snack most probably.

"The taxi driver from Deadpool kind of Indian," Muhammad rebuts gruffly earning a few chuckles.

"What you mean Dopinder?"

At that, everyone around stopped and stared hard at Tyoma.

"What?"

"Seriously? You remembered his name?" deadpans someone from another team.

"Photographic memory, can't help it."

"Whatever, anyways Muzzie, that's fucking racist," cuts in Dean, back laid against a tree munching on a fruit bar. The newbie merc clicks his tongue in rebuttal. "Oh fuck off, old man, you just ain't dank enough." More chuckles follow that statement to which Dean shakes his head with a lopsided grin. Kids these days. No respect for their elders.

"Dark humor or no humor 'mirite, brotha?" hollers someone way up front.

"Amen to that," Muzzie yells back followed by more laughter.

"Ahh, _Mahamad_ , _Mohammed_ , makes no difference to me. Anyways you got a light, brother?"

Nimbly Muhammad lights his own cigarette before passing the lighter on to Manuela. Looking around, Muhammad spots the Trinity agent in charge of the expedition moving further ahead through the narrow ridgeline with two guys from Tango-2.

His name was Walter Pendanski, an eccentric fellow with a funny name and it rang a few bells in his head too. Muhammad had once read a book called Holes during literature class many years back. One of the antagonists was called Pendanski who basically introduced himself by giving his name as _'Pen-Dance-Ski'_.

Watching the bespectacled baldy in beige checkered shirt and cargo pants flitting around, map in hand made him wonder how the flying fuck did this guy made it past Deacon training. To become a Deacon was the highest level of commitment one could make in service to Trinity. Deacons had better gear, greater benefits - _free healthcare, dental, etc,_ not to mention higher pay. The training itself was a grueling selection phase for promising recruits who display fanaticism and competence in upholding Trinity's interests and ideals. Each candidate has been handpicked to go through 9 months of advanced combat and leadership training, and surprisingly enough, a deeper study into religion; Catholicism. It was whispered that for every fifty selected, only five make it through to become a Deacon, and of the five, only one would live long enough past ten years of service.

All members within Trinity' initiated circle have gone through the program so it wasn't really surprising to meet an old fart in a suit who knows his way around a Glock.

Sadly Muhammad for the life of him just couldn't picture his boss in tac-gear and toting weapons around. Hell, that pistol butt jutting out of Pendanski's leg holster was an eyesore enough. Aside from Walter, Dean was the only other person within this entire expedition team who's had Deacon training.

Speaking of which, Dean, who'd been busy sifting through the transmissions on his Comtac abruptly stands up and begins stretching. "Okay guys, Pendanski-"

"Peniskiss," Tyoma cuts in,

"A'ight, zip it fuckboy," snickers follow Dean's rebuttal. Once they quieten down Team 1's leader continues. "Pendanski's gonna recce the area, see if there's a better and shorter route to take. In the meantime, we will set up a perimeter and do what we do best before we shake up and move off."

"Yeap, shleepin' on the job. _Mmf_." mumbles Clarke with a mouth full of disgusting MRE.

"Uh huh, you do that and Muzzie's gonna _Allah-snackbar_ your ass with an IED, ya fat cunt." Clarke flips him off, but then he pokes his side with a finger, mulling over if perhaps that statement had some weight to it, _no pun intended_ , much to the amusement of the other mercenaries.

Beneath the shemagh, Muhammad gave a sigh. They were _kafir **[** **Disbelievers]**_ , ignorant of his religion yet harmless. If one were to cry foul it would nevertheless put him at fault for nobody asked much less forced him to join Trinity. But being surrounded by non-believers was of little concern to him. Besides, Didn't Ahmed Ibn Fadlan the famous Muslim explorer during the 10th century surrounded himself with the pagan Vikings in his travels?

"Right, up. Team 2 and 3 have our 12 till 8 o' clock. We'll fill in the 9 till 11." Grumbling, Team 1 slowly set about to their positions.

Half an hour passed by and so far nothing over the comms other than the _Mike-Golf-Romeo_ (MGR) _**[MGR = Map Grid]**_ updates coming over from Pendanski.

The thick foliage and semi-damp soil didn't bother Muzzie. The heat didn't bother him much either. A lifetime ago when Muhammad was conscripted into an Infantry regiment, he'd been trained in jungle warfare and close terrain environments. His unit was known for their brutal regimentations, constantly training under the hot sun. Heat acclimatization they called it.

But what he never got over where the fire ants creeping in through his combat shirt - Fuck! Muhammad squishes a couple of them at the hem of his shirt. And the heat rash.

Did he mention heat rash?

Lighting up a cigarette, he passes the time by indulging in having his nicotine fix. A rustling of leaves deeper in the bush brings his attention back from the mind-numbing comfort of tobacco and nicotine. Muscle memory kicks in faster than Muzzie could even blink, as though having a mind of its own, he snaps the SAR to the shoulder with one hand, cigarette in the other and his eye through the EOTech sight, high on alert. Dried leaves and twigs crunch as Manuela comes tumbling out cursing and swearing in Spanish. Muzzie lowers his aim and mutters a curse.

"Whoa, whoa, what's going on?" The veteran ignores the question posed and continues spouting Spanish angrily.

"Me no hables _**[Speak]**_ Espanol brother," underneath the graphite colored shemagh wrapped around the lower portion of Muzzie's face was a toothy grin.

"Fuck off, _cabron **[Dumbass]**_." spat the Mexican mercenary as he drops his pack beside the newbie's but then ran up to sit on the newbie's shoulder, a playful smile on his face.

"Tsk, fuck off la! Get off pendejo!" _**[Idiot / stupid]**_

A giggle rumbles forth from Manuela. "You ever watched one of those cat videos, bruh? The one that goes if I fits, I sits?"

"Puta Madres!" _**[Motherfucker]**_ grunts Muhammad as he tries to push his comrade off his shoulders. He even resorted to grabbing the Mexican's _anaconda_ , ahem, to throw him off. "Get the fuck offa' me!"

"Chill, man. A little horseplay isn't gonna kill nobody," guffaws Manuela as he plonks down right beside. He too lights a cigarette.

"Hijo de puta!" _ **[Fucking bitch]**_

"Jesus, I really should stop teaching you how to curse in Spanish." That earned a chuckle from Muzzie as he inhales on his reds.

Switching subjects, "Shouldn't you be with Tyoma?" spoke the newbie as he exhales the toxins. "Agh, fuck him," a scowl on Manuela's face. "That Russian fuckboy won't stop talking about all the bitches he's fucked. It's getting to my nerves."

"Oh yeah bruh, I totally understand. Chill man, you're with me now."

Talk like that can really put a man down, depending on who you're talking to. Tyoma's freaking Adonis in the flesh while Manuela... well Manuela looks like an avocado had sex with another avocado to put it gently. Like, disgusting angry hate sex which explains the pockmarks and nasty scars on his face. Guys like Tyoma got all the bitches while guys like Manuela literally feed off these sex gods' scraps. That is... if the scraps would even go near people like Manuela, that is.

Sometime later the two found themselves sitting back to back, blankly staring off into the treetops and slowly roasting away beneath their heavy fatigues.

"We shouldn't be so close to each other anyways, tactical distance remember? Dean will have a fit if he sees this."

The Mexican dismisses Muhammad with a wave of his hand. "Agh, to hell with that, we're in a jungle in the middle of fucking Brazil. Who in the fuck would attack us?"

"Err, I dunno. Lara Croft?"

"Oh, come on, get ' _rekt_ ' will you?" The Mexican spits out a globule of saliva before continuing. "Puta's just a myth, a bogeyman they use to keep us on our toes, you know how they hate it when we slack off,"

Using his best nasal pseudo-British voice, Manuela continues while flicking some ash away from the cigarette locked between his index and middle fingers. "As field operatives we expect you to be professional when in the field. We are most displeased with your lack of discipline in regards to your conduct in the field."

This elicits a soft chuckle from Muhammad. Yes, he's heard that line of complaint before on many occasion in fact.

"Yeah? Well, that woman you so casually dismissed as nothing more than an urban fucking legend, rampaged across Kitezh and Syria, fucking up our major operations along the way and somehow even managing to kill a very capable commander! Burnt him to fucking cinders and ashes if I'd heard it right. And have you heard about the body count she left behind? Freaking scary man," he lets out an exhale, impressed and terrified at the same time. "she single-handedly wiped out like a hundred of our guys with just knives and arrows like, what the fuck!"

"Oh come on!" Cries out the veteran mercenary exasperatedly, throwing his arms up. "Not you too! You actually believe that some random woman with no military background or training could actually take down a hundred well armed, well-trained men with pickaxes and arrows? That..that she..she fucking honed her skills after getting marooned on some fucking island in the middle of China-"

"Japan."

"Whatever amigo! The point is Lara fucking Croft doesn't exist and even if she does, she probably got the drop on some guys goofing off, they freaked and this whole rumor about a one-woman killing machine started."

Muzzie wasn't buying it. "Aww cmon, pull that wool outta your eyes, I mean okay! Okay!" He sucks in a deep breath. This whole debate over the existence of Lara Croft was getting him all worked up. "Let's just agree for the moment this she doesn't exist-"

"There's nothing to agree with mi amigo 'cos the damn bitch is a just a myth! You new guys are way too easy to get suckered into all of this pile of bull!" barks the Mexican.

The newbie rolls his eyes at that. Manuela's got a thick skin he can respect that. But you can't deny her gruesome handiwork on the unfortunate guys in Kitezh and Syria. What few journal entries recovered from their bodies spoke of their final moments terrified and fearful for their lives as she brutally hunted down and picked them off one by one.

Poor bastards never saw her coming.

"Just work with me here, Manuela." sighs Muhammad as he lights up another cigarette. "Let's say she doesn't exist, a myth, okay. Then explain to me how did Konstantin die along with his task force and we lose the- whatever it was they were searching for?"

"Simple. The goddamn natives got to him."

"Huh," That stopped Muhammad in his tracks. Surprisingly that's not such a bad argument. Why hadn't he consider this scenario before? Was he too mystified by the myth of the woman, Lara Croft who'd become the perpetual thorn in Trinity's side? It was well known that the task force dispatched by Trinity into Kitezh had indiscriminately mowed down the natives within their AO so it was no surprise they would undoubtedly rise up. Plus there were numerous reports of locals fighting back with bows and arrows as well as Soviet-era weapons.

Without missing a beat, Manuela continues drilling into Muhammad. "They overwhelmed the task force by sheer numbers, captured Konstantin and burned him to death along with the...the I dunno relic? Should I say that? Konstantin called it the Divine Relic."

"Divine my ass," Muzzie snorts.

Trinity, it seems has an obsession with the ancient as well as the bizarre. Lost artifacts that were rumored to contain 'special' qualities were the prime targets of the organization. They would secure these mythical relics and if possible use it to further make progress for the human race. With a minor detail of ensuring the organization's dominance in the long run. Muhammad didn't mind working for these people, everybody wanted to rule the world. Politicians with their dirty power play, the rich and their tax evasions, nations spying and conspiring against one another. The world has gone quite mad and he'd rather stand with the ones that will benefit the most out of it. And they're religiously motivated so that's a plus.

As mentioned before, his bosses had several times, in fact, tried to get Muhammad to forego the Mosque and embrace the Church. To which he would politely turn them down every time the matter was brought up.

He was determined to climb the career ladder whilst keeping to his faith. And as much as he respected the Catholic faith, he just could not wrap around the idea of worshiping another man as a God, much less his blessed mother. The Catholic faith in his opinion greatly tarnishes the concept of monotheism by mixing Orthodox Christianity and Roman Pagan beliefs.

 _'Mary, the mother of God? That's fucked up.'_

He kept Jesus in his heart as a prophet with a miraculous birth, nothing more. That aside, another reason to work for Trinity was that they would pay a tidy sum each month for his services to play soldier minus the crummy regimentation army life enforced plus the opportunity to travel overseas came as a perk in his line of work. Muzzie _loved_ to travel. The sights, the food, the culture, the ladies **_-_** _that brought a smirk to our character's face._

In fact, thanks to his work as a Personal Security Detailee he's been able to visit Turkey and Poland so far. Work-life was surprisingly balanced, there was always a two or even a three-day RnR at the end of each mission and his work schedule has never permitted him to stay in a foreign country for more than 2 weeks. Meaning he was never away for too long to the point he'd start hating his deployment.

This was his first major outfield for Trinity and he was eager to be considered for Deacon training. Hopefully, Dean would agree to put in a good word for him by the end of this year. He's the proper age, and despite lacking major skillsets required to qualify as a Deacon, his team leader could technically pull a few strings. Of course, it all depends on how Muhammad performs for this mission.

"You're really into this whole 'Lara Croft' deal aren't you, Muzzie. Hell, maybe even obsessed. You got a crush on her man?"

That came out all too sudden for the newbie.

Muzzie nearly swallowed his cigarette at that statement. "The fuck!?"

"You do, don't you? You wanna bend her over and give her some of that tiny Asian-"

"Fuck the hell off! And it's not _THAT_ tiny, okay!"

The Mexican began laughing at his reaction; red-faced from the embarrassment and nearly swallowing some cigarette smoke.

"No, dude," He coughs some of the smoke out. "She's like a legit threat to Trinity. The more info I have on her is something I can use to my advantage. Know thy enemy and that kinda shit. Y..y'know? And..and you seem to know about her just as much as I do Manuela."

Manuela stops laughing, "Muzzie everybody inside Trinity, initiated or not, knows of her backstory. It's just a matter of whether I want to believe in the bullshit or not."

"Okay, believe what you will. But I know one thing's for sure. If what we're looking for holds considerable power she's probably gunning for it as well."

"If she exists of course."

"Alright, alright, fair enough." _Let's agree to disagree for now. God, the heat is killing me._

The other half hour passed by uneventfully. Walter came back eventually with orders to continue their trek much to the men's chagrin. Up the hills and down the slopes they went till the sun set and darkness crept back into the world.

Muhammad helped dig a large fire pit thanks to the entrenching tool he brought along while the rest poured firewood, solid fuel bars and began cooking their dinner in no time. Canned food, ramen noodles, and the occasional sweetened biscuits were on the menu tonight.

Team 1 sat huddled in a circle round the fire while the other teams settled in amongst their own. Beneath the stars, the men shared stories and personal experiences to pass the time. Bitchy ex-wives, horny high school teachers, their kid's first birthday. Anything goes. Anything to pass the time. Anything to make the night in this humid, mosquito-infested rainforest bearable.

"Shit man, I ain't ever going to your house Manuela, god knows what kinda nightmare your momma's gonna be serving me," guffaws Clarke as he swats away the gnats hovering by his ear, Manuela simply gave a lazy smile before flipping the middle finger. Dean ruffles his jungle hat whilst shaking his head. Sensing the conversation was dying, Muhammad decides to start something. Again.

"Okay guys, I got another-"

The men groaned loudly at Muzzie who only snickers at them.

"None of that shit, man."

"Again, seriously?"

"No, Muzzie, just...no."

"Last one. Cmon guys, I promise." Begs the newbie as his teammates began telling him off.

"Alright, fine. Last one." Sighs Dean as he munches on a cream biscuit.

"Yes!"

"Oh man, why you gotta let him do that?" moans Clarke out loud.

"He promised it's the last one, let's just get it over and done with."

Muzzie began chuckling darkly at that. "So. For two hundred million," He pauses for dramatics, satisfied he has the attention of his teammates.

"Two hundred million for?" presses Manuela.

"Euros or _Yew-Ess-Dee_ **[USD]**?"

"Uh, let's go with _Yew-Ess-Dee_ ,"

"Is there even a point to all this?" sighs Dean.

"Wait, wait. I'm not done yet chill." Says the newbie before continuing. "For two hundred million dollars…would you suck Donald Trump's dick?"

This time, the entire campsite exploded into action as roars of laughter, exasperated groans, and cries of disbelief went off all at the same time.

"The fuck!?"

"Eww Whaddafuq man!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" calls out the new guy. "I forgot to mention, you gotta make eye contact with him throughout the entire time you give him head,"

"Oh God, eww."

"You're fucking gross man!"

"Fuck off Muzzie!"

"Yeah fuck off you goddamn pog!"

"What if I just give 'em a little nub around the tip? Does that count"

"No count, really get in there and put the whole thing in your mouth"

"Aww fuck that's nasty,"

It was Clarke who suddenly said something which silenced everyone. "Actually," he takes in a deep breath. "Two hundred million is not such a bad deal."

"Fuck man, you're not actually considering-"

"Naw Frank he's right." Says another. "Two hundred mil's a crapton of cash. Shit, I'll fucking finish and swallow his cum if it means I'll get a bonus,"

Laughter and cries of "ohmigod!" intermixed loudly throughout the Trinity harboring ground.

"I'll need to see the money first before I do it, though, seriously." Dean shrugs. "Fuck, is there even a point to all these goddamn questions?"

"Nah, no reason at all."

"Well, thanks for wasting my time, cheese dick." Says Clarke as finishes the rest of his dinner. As the laughter dies down, they began on a new topic to settle on.

"So Muzzie," Tyoma begins, grabbing the team's newest addition.

"Yeah?"

"You got anyone waiting for you back home?"

Muhammad frowns, as far as he was concerned he left his old life behind for a reason he'd rather not remember.

"Why you gotta do that, bro? Look at him, he looks upset." Clarke interjects.

"What? Just curious, not offended right Mohammed?"

"It's Muhammad, for fuck's sake and yeah, I got a mom, dad and three siblings waiting for me back home. Home as in my birth country, not America. I send them money every month just to let 'em know I'm alive. As far as they're concerned I'm the wayward son who's gone off to America looking for a better life than what Singapore could provide."

"Must be tough on you man, they know what you do?"

"Nah, you crazy? I can't even begin explaining what Trinity is. They'll think I work for the fucking Illuminati or something." The men broke out into short giggling fits. Ain't that truth.

"Do you miss home?"

"Sometimes, I mean don't you too?"

Dean chuckles, "I totally get you. This one time my wife, she saw the Trinity logo on my laptop. I seriously didn't know what to tell her so I just said we did import and export. Thank God for front companies."

That got the men snickering. Manuela then adds another question. "So what're your plans once you're done with the contract? You gonna move on or you planning to re-up?" He chugs down a mouthful of water. "And how'd they let you get in anyway? You seem kinda...fresh."

" _Pfft,_ you kidding me? Of course I'm gonna stay! I like this job. Besides what else is out there for me? A 9-5 desk job? With the certs in my hand, I'd be lucky if I could even land a decent paying job but then what? Crunch numbers in the back-end of an office for the rest of my life till I hit a mid-life crisis? Fuck that."

"They hired you through a front company, right?" Clark gave a chuckle.

"Yeah, think mine was Atlas Security or something."

"Huh, mine was Jurten Holdings."

"No shit, me too." Says Dean. "But that was almost thirty years ago. Didn't know Trinity still had that company operational."

"The selection process wasn't really intense, they just needed guys with actual combat experience and you know, me with just two years of military experience wasn't just gonna cut it and you know what they say, _'If all else fails, fake it till you make_ _it'_."

"You faked your way in?" Dean nearly spat out the water from his canteen. Tyoma and Clarke swapped horrified expressions. "Jesus, you're crazy man!"

"Erm, yeah. I needed the money real bad. A few tweaks to my resume, here and there. Eh heh heh, You guys aren't gonna...tell on me now are you?"

"No, I won't but...God, you're such an idiot." Dean massages his head. "At least you're a way better team player than the last one."

"Oh yeah, I never knew what happened to the last member of this team. What happened to him before I filled in?"

"We took some fire down in Kosovo. Dumb motherfucker tried to go lone wolf and got his ass killed in seconds."

"Shit," Muzzie blinks in surprise.

"Yeah. Ex-Delta Force my ass, do me a favor kid, see to it you don't fuck around and follow my every lead, we clear?"

"Not gonna argue there. Besides, the payout's real healthy for my bank account you know?"

"Ain't that the truth." Nods Manuela enthusiastically at the mention of their ridiculously high salary. "Can't wait for that 8 months worth of bonus coming up this November. Gonna go to fucking Hawaii man. Sun on my skin and a pussy on my face." He rubs his palms together gleefully.

"So you're just in for the money?"

"Yeah, and a few other reasons too."

"Even if it means working alongside infidels?"

Upon receiving the disapproving looks from the rest Manuela holds his arms up with a shrug, "What? I'm just saying we all got different reasons for joining. I'm curious about the new guy. He's a Muslim in an organization with roots going far back to the Knights Templars, it's like working for the enemy, or something like that."

Clarke quickly intervenes once more to try shut the conversation down before this escalates into something ugly.

"Nah, its alright Clarke. Its cool, see the thing is, I don't see much of a difference between Islam and Christianity. We're brothers you know like our beginnings revolve around the Prophet Ibrahim, you call him Abraham, we have our differences and also our similarities."

"That's a good speech and all," the Russian hums while fiddling with his AKM, "But you are aware that at the end of the day, this is still a job and orders are orders. We may need to kill people should they get in our way, what's your take on that?"

"That's where I believe Trinity falls short. The sword isn't the only answer I mean, God wouldn't want senseless bloodshed right? And what about you guys? Y'all alright with shooting people?"

They exchange glances and slowly shake their heads. "We're no strangers to killing but in my opinion, gunning down people who can't fight back is...wrong. Wrong and disgusting. But what we do is a small price to pay for a better God-fearing world. I wasn't in it for the money. I wanted to make a difference in this world to shape the world as God had wanted. I still do."

Muhammad rubs his chin. "And what image did God want for the world?"

"To believe in him, to worship him. A world without sin. Haven't you seen the rise of atheism and skepticism over the past decade? It's like the more we progress as a species the more arrogant we become and the more we put God in the backseat."

The rest of the mercenaries around the fire pit nod their heads in agreement. Muzzie too found himself agreeing with Dean's observation of mankind's arrogance to challenge the Creator. But still, "I'm here to see the world, do some good and earn a living. But if it comes down to it I don't think I can take an innocent person's life just because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I'm guessing you've never killed anyone before, huh?" Clarke pats the newbie on the back. Muzzie nods solemnly.

"I've got it in me to shoot someone who wants to kill me but an unarmed civilian? That's murder," mumbles Muzzie. "God won't forgive me so easily for that,"

"Murder, assassination, espionage, welcome to the dark side of Trinity. When the time comes, you'll pull the trigger. Don't think too much, just squeeze, look away if you have to. Think of who you wanna see when you get home, hold on to it tight and you'll see yourself on the flight back home in no time." Dean pats him on the back.

"Thanks - wait, why're we talking about all these morbid shit, let's eat already!" They began grabbing their mess tins, greedily slurping up the noodles and relishing in the flavor it brought. A loud crash suddenly came from the other teams and shouts of 'ohhh!' echoed all around. "Frank you stupid fuck!" yelled one of the mercs as everyone even Walter broke out into fits of laughter. They were a handful alright but, they're okay. He'd rather have these guys watching his back than the morons running amok back in his army days.

Dean stands up abruptly, "Where ya going, man?"

"Just got a call." _'Papa'_ Dean taps his headset, indicating new instructions transmitted over comms. "Walter's called for a meeting with the other team leaders. Hold the fort and don't kill one another. Be back before ya know it."

"Kay,"

"Later boss"

"So guys," Muhammad says while unwrapping the shemagh from his neck and putting it over his head. They make good mosquito nets too. "What do you think we're looking for out here?"

"I heard from a friend in Science Division the higher-ups are looking for a ruby deep within the forests of Brazil. Said something 'bout it having the power to stop time," Tyoma mutters whilst chewing on a gummy.

" _Astaghfirullah_ , you serious?"

"Mhmm, what does that mean by the way?"

"Means err...God have mercy in Arabic. And this ruby, you believe it exists? That'd be freakin' cool! Like what if we could-" but Manuela beats the Russian to the punch.

"Trinity does but personally I feel its probably just a rare piece of gem. You know how superstitious these ancient civilizations are, right?"

Goddamnit Manuela.

Tyoma rolls his eyes at the Mexican. "I was a skeptic too during my first tour here but after going through some weird shit here, I don't know bro. I.." his voice trailed off and stared into the dark horizon of the rainforest, a haunted look on his face. "Anyways moving on, let's just grab whatever it is we're looking for and get out."

The others nod in agreement.

"You know Artyom," Clarke scratches at his neck. Damn 'squitos.

" _Da?_ "

"I noticed you speak English real well, heck you've even got a slight American accent. I know a few Russians and they can't speak English for shit."

"Oh, I was brought up in an American English school. My parents wanted me to be fluent in the language. Mama wanted me to become a doctor in America."

Manuela burst out laughing at that, "Bet she wasn't expecting the fuck-up that you are now eh, _mi amigo_?"

"Fuck off, Manny," growls Artyom darkly. He wasn't messing around.

"Alright, alright, break it up." Muzzie waves his hand, trying to placate Tyoma. "Food's getting cold,"

They finished up their dinner in silence, the buzzing of gnats and chirping crickets accompanying the men of Tango 1.

Dean came back a few hours later. "Alright. Got good news and bad news. Which one do you wanna hear first?"

"The bad one."

"Bad."

"Bad."

"Bad."

"Okay, bad news it is. The ruby is deep within the temple by at least, according to Walter's estimation a hundred feet below ground. And the texts Walter's been studying suggest the people who hid the ruby made steps to prevent intruders from getting it probably with booby traps. Expect poisoned arrows, trapdoors and flooring rigged to collapse."

Manuela whistles at that. Bad news indeed. That threw a wrench in their plans but nothing they couldn't handle.

"And the good?" whimpers Muhammad weakly.

"We're less than 300 meters away from the temple's underground entrance." That brought weary smiles out at least.

"So the plan tomorrow is simple. Once we reach the entrance we start breaking out the heavy tools and start cutting down trees to make an LZ. Tango 3 will be laying the tags for the birds to land. Walter wants the LZ up by 1600 tomorrow. From there HQ will fly in heavy explosives, resupp and maybe a few extra manpower. The day after at 1400 hours, Walter commences Operation Sweepstake. You've all been through the briefings so I'll keep it short. At 1400, Walter wants the first man already inside the temple. We hustle it up, grab the shit and boom. Two days of _RnR_ in Rio and we'll be on the private flight back home the following night itself."

"Yeah! Gonna get me some of that exotic booty," whoops Manuela as he cracks his knuckles.

"Keep dreaming, _Sukka!_ " chuckles the Russian, narrowly avoiding the empty cigarette pack thrown towards him.

"Mo-mo you okay? Looking kinda pale there new guy." frowns Clarke.

"Uhh..." was all Muhammad could say, nevermind the shivers he's suddenly afflicted by. The rest of the men broke into laughter. Having him around on field ops can be quite entertaining.

Dean being himself sauntered over and wrapped his arm around the newbie. Its no wonder they call him 'Papa' Dean. "Its alright, FNG. Just stay close to me. Watch your step, don't touch anything and you'll be fine. Okay?"

The merc nods at this, still shivering.

Holy fuck. Poison arrows what the fuck are they getting themselves into?

"Alright, c'mon follow me Muzzie, you and me," Dean says, in clean fatigue.

"Just bring along your weapon, leave the rest behind."

"Where are we going?" murmurs the mercenary as the two made their way through the thick foliage.

"Just follow me. This way."

It seems like they were climbing to the top of the hill, rifle mounted flashlights illuminating the way. There at the top was a wide-open grassy patch where a generous breeze was blowing. Dean sat on the edge, rifle back slung and legs a' dangling. The newbie mercenary shrugs and follows suit.

"Just relax, enjoy the breeze and have a smoke. Calms the nerve."

10 minutes pass by as the men enjoy their nicotine fix in silence. Then, Muzzie breaks that silence. "I'm scared."

"Me too," Dean says. Muhammad cocks his head sideways, _'Papa'_ Dean scared? No way.

"The thought of not seeing my little girls ever again scares the shit out of me,"

Muhammad stays silent letting that sink in. Then, his team leader continues. "It's alright to be afraid. When the Iraqis blew up our tanks and got us surrounded I was afraid. When Ukrainian extremists pinned my guys down with a machine gun team I nearly shat myself. When I screwed up on a hit for Trinity this one time I nearly lost my shit. Way I see it, there's two options. Roll over and die or man up and push on. But don't tell the guys what I told you. Reputations."

"A lifetime to build, seconds to destroy,"

"That's a good way to put it, but yeah anyways, once we get to the temple stay close to Clarke, he'll look out for you. Tyoma and Manuela are idiots I don't trust that commie fuckboy and Pablo Escobar as far as I can throw em,"

They giggle at that. The breeze began picking up a little bit harsher.

"Tide's coming in," Dean points out at the far end of the horizon, waves rolling and crashing against the shore.

"Hey Dean, can I ask you something?"

The Trinity mercenary bites on another cigarette stick before lighting it up, "Ashk, away, mmm.."

"You did uh, stuff for Trinity several years back right?" He was stopped by Dean who raises his hand in reply.

"If you wanna reopen the past then save it, kid. I'm sworn to secrecy."

"Oh no, don't get me wrong I was wondering if you knew more about, uh, Croft."

Muhammad notices his colleague going all stiff, his free hand tightly clenched.

"You mean, Lara Croft?" He spat her name out like the venom it was.

Muhammad nods his head. "Yeah, um, heard a lot of rumors about her like, uh, is she real or is she just-"

Dean rubs his left eye before exhaling with a defeated sigh. "Yeah, she's real."

"Did...like did you ever face her?" Muhammad, giddy with excitement asks eagerly to know more about this elusive enemy.

"No, but she's killed plenty of the people I've worked with."

"Let me guess, we've tried sending people to assassinate her but she keeps sending them back in bodybags?"

Slowly Dean nods. "It's gotten to a point where no matter how many we send, she keeps coming back out alive. We just couldn't fucking touch her or her friends without losing a shit ton of valuable assets so we've settled for surveillance instead. Hopefully, when she fucks up we can take her out, quick and clean but-" he gives another exhale before shaking his head.

"But?" Prods the newbie.

"She's on the move now. Got a call from one of my buddies down in Intel several months back. She's not running anymore, she's going all around the goddamn globe hunting down our cells, says she crashed right through the front door guns blazing and killed em all. Very not like her. What I'm telling you stays between us ya hear?" Dean stabs a finger with a frightening expression on his face causing Muhammad to swallow and nod firmly.

"Command's getting desperate. Obviously, they've awoken a sleeping dragon. Or a raging phoenix in this case. That's why we're here for the stone. To get an edge over her. This expedition could either make or break Trinity's continuation over to the next century."

"Wow."

Was all he could say at the gravity, the scope of the situation. All along he thought this was a simple archaeological expedition but to know he was actually a part of an effort to preserve Trinity?

Mind. Blown.

"Is she really as skilled as everybody says? The whole _she-Rambo_ thing with the knives and the arrows?"

"Every word. And she's good with guns too. Prefers em' fixed with a silencer."

Fuck. And if she's after the ruby then they better pray for a miracle and get to it first.

"But why cause so much trouble for us? What did the higher-ups do to piss her off?"

"I don't know, some said we killed her dad, he was an archaeologist too and probably meddled in affairs he should have stayed out of so maybe he was one of those people that had to be removed. Others said we had a hand in her being marooned on the island and she wants revenge."

"Yamatai,"

"Yeah where her supposed transformation from a meek, quiet kid to well... _this_ , began. How'd you know all this?"

"Eh, bits and pieces I overhear during lunch breaks." shrugs Muhammad as he flicks away the excess off of his cigarette

"Whatever her motivations are, she's as dangerous as they say. Command wants her out of the picture."

"What about capturing her? Or I dunno get her to join us? She'd make a great asset if we could get her on our side."

"Haven't you been listening?" snaps Dean. "She's too dangerous, command wants her dead ASAP before she does something that we cannot recover from. We've already lost sixteen sleeper cells and a shit ton of safehouses. Precious manpower and resources. She's made it real clear of her hatred towards us so getting her to join us is out of the question. Plus losing Konstantin dealt a huge blow to us. He was a hard bastard, I can tell you that, plus most of the training regimentation you see; live firing, war games were all planned out by him,"

"So that disaster in Kitezh, that was her?"

Dean nods at that. "Replacing him won't be an easy task though personally, I'm glad he's gone."

"Why sia*?" _**[Singaporean/Malaysian suffix used to punctuate a sentence]**_

"The motherfucker's insane that's one. And another, Konstantin does not value the lives of his men. At all. To him, we're all expendable. Easily replaced with another guy suckered in for the payroll. An honest-to-god slip up could very well spell out your death. Right there. On the spot, no warning. Just, _boom_. Dead,"

"Shit, man. What the fuck?"

"Yeah, I've heard of people quitting on the spot the minute they get word of their next deployment, that they'd be working alongside that fuckin' maniac. He'd make his men do terrible things too, I'm not talking murder here."

"Rape?"

"And worse. Something about putting the fear of God into his enemies. Crazy fuck."

Oh.

Muhammad could only imagine the horrors of serving Commander Konstantin. Luckily for him, Walter Pendansky doesn't seem the type to execute his own men on a whim, in fact, Muhammad thinks Walter wouldn't even hurt a fly.

"So, let's say we do run into her, how are we gonna kill her?"

"Shoot on sight, dumbass. Keep your eyes and ears open, call out anything out of the ordinary and never wander anywhere off alone."

"Cool, can do."

"She fights dirty. Toxic gas grenades, sometimes she uses these arrows tipped with I dunno benzene or something but its real flammable shit, not pretty ways to go either,"

Muzzie winces. He has no intention of spending his final moments burnt alive or asphyxiating on poisonous gases.

"Pretty sure those are against international law..." he mutters whilst fiddling with his SAR's charging handle.

"Yeah well be sure to tell her that before you put two in her chest," chuckles his team leader.

"She's learning. Getting better. Last I heard she learned this trick to hide underwater. She'd come right outta nowhere and drag them down into the depths."

"Oh fuck me. That's like, I dunno some kinda Rambo bullshit or something."

"Tell me about it. And that was months ago before we lost Konstantin and his sister so who knows what kinda fucked up tricks she's got now." not wanting to spook the kid even more, he decides to call it a day.

"Alright," Dean slaps a hand on the newbie's shoulder. "It's getting late. We have a long day tomorrow lets start heading back."

"Okay and uh, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For…you know."

"No problem. I can only motivate you so far, the rest falls on you. Now c'mon, hustle it up."

As the Trinity expedition turned in for the night, an unmarked helicopter lands in the very same clearing they made touchdown on this morning.

From its bowels, the chopper disgorges a lone woman wearing a beige singlet, tight-fitting khaki pants, and hiking boots. This getup was further complemented with various tactical equipment strapped on to her lithe form. They ranged from military-grade pouches to a leg holster snuggled against her thigh.

Nothing too fancy either, just the bare minimum that wouldn't sacrifice her mobility.

The wooden handcrafted compound bow strapped to her back was probably the most treasured out of all her gear. It has seen her through Yamatai and Kitezh, slowly over the years modified and reworked into a better and more efficient tool of killing.

Again, the woman steps off and quickly put some distance between herself and the chopper, its powerful downwash threatening to bowl her over.

As quickly as it landed, the helicopter takes off and retreats once its single passenger had disembarked, the woman on the ground waving the pilot off as a form of gratitude. Silence creeps back into the clearing once more. Grabbing the radio from the back, she makes a radio check with a close associate of hers who'd come along for the ride.

"Jonah, this is Lara come in over."

"This is Jonah, go ahead."

"Lara here, getting a good signal from you how do you read me?"

"Jonah here, likewise. What's your status now?"

"I'm making my way to the temple now. I'll contact you again once I've reached the entrance."

"Alright, keep me updated and good luck."

"Thanks. Lara, out."

Lara Richard Croft takes a deep breath, allowing herself to take comfort in the gentle breeze softly tickling her hair. God she loved the outdoors, it truly is a liberating experience to get away from all the craziness that came with when living an urban lifestyle. As she goes deeper into the jungle, her torchlight illuminates multiple sets of bootprints on the ground and they were headed towards in the same direction she was. Her blood boils at the thought of who they might have belonged to.

Trinity.

They were after the Ruby Of Time as well. Figures.

And judging by the looks of the footprints they had almost a twelve-hour headstart. Bugger.

She bends a knee to get a closer look. Lara had become a skilled tracker by circumstance, this was too easy. She could simply follow the breadcrumbs and snatch the ruby right beneath their noses. And hopefully whittle a few more of their numbers down, maybe even take out the head of their expedition. That ought to be yet another painful blow to Trinity.

"Jonah, I've found several tracks heading deeper into the forest. Human footwear by the looks of it."

"Trinity?" there was an undertone of concern in his voice. Their bond had grown very close over the years, some may say almost as if they were siblings. Although it was completely possible one may have feelings for the other.

"My hunch exactly, though they could just be the natives out on a hunting party. But then again, the natives in this region don't go mucking around in hiking boots, this _is_ Vale Do Javari, not fucking Rio-De-Janeiro," she says as she stands up and continues following the dried up muddy prints. "If these tracks stay consistent over the next few hours I should be able to catch up to them."

"Alright, Lara but be careful. Don't do anything crazy, Jonah, out."

"I'll keep that in mind," she murmurs in her posh South Londoner accent whilst putting her radio away. "Time to get a move on,"

And so she did like a thief in the night.

Trinity had best watch out. She was coming for them.

All of them.

* * *

 **A/N :**

 **And that's chapter 2! Instead of using a glossary I've decided to simply add in the meanings of foreign words or slangs right beside the sentence in Italics and Bold.**

 **Honestly, I feel it could be better structured as I feel it's kinda blocky and distracting to the reader. Any suggestions as to how I should go about? Let me know in the reviews or PM. Lotsa foreign words going on here, mainly because Singaporeans are brought up multi-cultural society so the average person could curse in at least 3 different languages. Looks like Manuela's taken some time teaching Muhammad how to curse in Spanish. Uh-oh.**

 **As usual, guys, Read, Follow and Review this story or even better, send me a PM! Till next time guys, ciao! :D**


	3. A Bump In The Night

**Summary:**

 **Lara's arduous trek leads her towards her intended destination, alas, Trinity has beaten her to the punch.**

 **Updated on 13/03/19**

* * *

Dawn has come about and Lara hasn't even come close to catching up to Trinity.

For starters, the terrain was absolutely unforgiving from thorny vines just waiting to snag onto a foot or two, to steep muddy slopes that required her to really get down and dirty. And to top it all off, the muddy footprints she'd been shadowing had all but faded away a few hours into her trek, forcing Lara to rely on map, compass, and torchlight to navigate the rest of the way on her own.

This place was nothing like the forests of Yamatai where at least there was a little bit of moonlight hazily filtered through the treetops or the wide-open, lonely mountainous steppes of Kitezh, no, this was a whole new element that challenged Lara. And she _loved_ a challenge.

It may have been difficult traveling alone in the dark but Lara made it through to sunrise just fine. She's been through worse. It was now midday and Lara's decided to take a little break lest hunger gets the best of her. Food was plentiful here in the jungle if one knew where to look. With the right knowledge, survival skills and sheer resilience, not only could one survive but one could also thrive in any known harsh environment.

Lara was a strong testament to that statement.

Some of the berries were edible; sweet, juicy and they provided quick energy. Likewise, certain plant leaves could be boiled and eaten and small mammals could easily be hunted for meat which was exactly what Lara did. She's gotten a fairly decent amount of kills with her archery skills and no doubt they'll taste good once roasted over a fire.

Not to mention the meat and vegetables gathered here were as organic as one could get.

Lara sat atop a deadfall, savoring her hunts and casually flipping through her notes as she ran through the details of her upcoming find.

The Devil's Gem or _Gema O Diablo_ as the Portuguese colonials had called it. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at that.

 _'How original'_ she rolls her eyes at that.

According to the texts she's found in her father's study; _one of the many works he's been sadly unable to acquire due to his unfortunate demise -_ The texts began the setting in the 16th century. During the Portuguese's colonial expansion into South America, they discovered a tribe of natives very different from the others they've encountered.

Pacification came at a heavy cost as their grenadiers were struck down before they could even let off a single shot. Engagement with the natives always resulted in near total attrition and the Portuguese soon found themselves facing expulsion off the coast of modern-day Brazil.

One night, on a daring raid in the enemy camp led by a member of the Portuguese nobility, the Iberian imperialists discovered the reason behind their defeats albeit by accident.

A ruby in the possession of the native's high priestess held the ungodly ability to freeze and unfreeze time at a whim. By channeling its awesome power the natives had an edge over the invaders to strike without fear of retaliation.

The High Priestess was killed during the raid and the surviving natives fled with ruby deep into the jungle. It was rumored they sought refuge in one of their temples and there, they laid it to rest within its very heart, waiting for a worthy successor to bring their people back unto salvation against the Iberian threat.

It never came, for none could come close to activating the ruby's power as the High Priestess did for the ruby demanded special qualities from whoever seeks to use it.

A strong will, a pure heart as well as a strong spiritual connection to the deity loosely translated as _'The Great Spirit'_.

As for the Portuguese, they believed the ruby to be of devilish origins and sought to destroy it but no such gem was ever found and they soon instead shifted their attention on expanding deeper into South America than chasing after ghosts.

Her late father had done much of the heavy lifting for her, triangulating the region where it could most likely be found and judging by those tracks earlier, her guess was that Trinity shared the same thoughts as well.

A shiver ran down Lara's spine.

If Trinity got a hold of the ruby first, she'll never see them coming. Sam, everyone she's ever cared about picked off without even knowing what hit them. That sent a course of anger and determination channeling through. She won't allow it to come to pass, over her dead body.

She's already lost Sam once to Trinity and that bitch, Himiko. She won't lose her again.

Gulping down the last mouthful of roasted quail, Lara stuffs the notes back in her pouch before grabbing her gear and continuing on with her journey. Up and down endless knolls she went, balancing her way through steep ridgelines and clawing her way up ravines.

The terrain, heat, and humidity were almost similar to Yamatai if not worse.

Not even traveling light in her tank top helped. At the very least there were no encounters with predatory animals so far and Lara was thankful for that. Just birds and fire ants.

 _Ow!_

More fire ants.

"It's getting dark soon. I need to stop and make camp," she murmurs as she stands atop a tall hill watching the sunset beyond the horizon. Such a gorgeous view, she wishes she could have someone with her to share the experience with. Alas, with the cards she's been dealt, it just wasn't possible.

Leaning against a tree facing her campfire Lara's thoughts drift back to the people waiting for her back home.

Throughout the years ever since the events of the Endurance, she's lost friends and burnt bridges so her social circle was relatively small, not that it bothered her. For Lara, it meant lesser commitments and lower chances of Trinity using someone she cares about as leverage.

Sam never approved of her hunting down Trinity, as much as the woman loved Lara to the moon and back she couldn't fathom having a lover so far away in the middle of nowhere getting herself killed.

So they were forced to call it off and it was...a very difficult thing to do. A relationship which had blossomed in the harshest of places had come to an untimely end.

Her heart aches just thinking about their final night together.

Her touch, her embrace. She could still make this right by keeping her safe from Trinity's crosshairs. Maybe after the blood, after the bullets and the killing, maybe they could be together in peace once more. She could get on with her own adventures and Sam would probably tag along documenting everything and with any luck perhaps, they'd hit their big break together-

Voices. Just over the tree-line.

"Tango 2 hurry up with those crates!"

She frantically kicks some sand into her fire to put it out then got low and crept forward towards the source of the voices. Lo and behold, she's found Trinity's campsite right at the bottom of the hill. It was a bloody miracle nobody spotted the light from her campfire.

Spotlights illuminate critical areas of the campsite, sentries toting assault rifles with flashlight attachments saunter about, some were hauling heavy boxes with the organization's logo; dead giveaways to their affiliation.

To make matters worse, it looks like they've found the underground entrance into the temple and judging from the large gaping hole off of the face of a cliff, they've probably used explosives to force their way in.

She scowls at the sight of the gigantic hole. Typical of Trinity, absolutely no respect for the intricate makings of ancient civilizations. Or nature for that matter. Her mind goes into overdrive, frantically looking for the closest path into the hole.

 _'I need to get down there first. Then take out the guards. I'll have to be quick. Hopefully, by the time realize what's going on it'll be too late.'_ she muses.

She could go in arrows flying, guns blazing and kill them all. She's confident she would win, she's done it before on Yamatai, in Syria, in Kitezh. The carnage and bloodbath she'd inflicted towards Konstantin's men and the Solarii Brotherhood could be easily reproduced here but experience has taught her stealth and patience was a far more lethal combination.

Their time will come and they won't see it coming.

So far no sight of Trinity's private army. Just hired guns in rag-tag tactical gear which was an honest-to-god blessing.

In comparison between the two, Trinity's regulars wore standardized issue uniforms, packed up-to-date equipment and displayed a tighter level of discipline and skill so it was really no contest which outfit was more detrimental to her health.

PMCs, the modern term for mercenaries are Trinity' go-to in order to keep a low profile for most of their operations.

Those who fill their ranks come from all walks of life from former pilots to former soldiers. Their loyalty was only to the paycheck and their motivations were simple: _Fuck shit up, get rich and go home._

It disgusts her to no end of the atrocities these hired guns were willing to commit for the sake of a dollar. In her eyes, they were guilty by association with those monsters. And to fight monsters, you had to become one.

Something Lara had fully embraced.

In the past not too long ago, Lara had killed for survival and in some cases, for the preservation of mankind. Now she takes life in the name of vengeance. These men were trigger-itchy thugs, gunning down whoever their masters deemed a threat with gleeful abandon. She almost pitied them.

Lara takes no pleasure in the killing despite having intimately mastered the art of it. But for Trinity, she'll make an exception. They've killed her father. They've tried to kill her, they've even hurt Sam and for that alone, they must die. All of them.

There, a way down. Grabbing on to a long vine, Lara slides down the slope and promptly collides headfirst right into a trio of sentries taking a nap.

 _Oh shi-_

"Agh, fuck! Who the-" the dazed sentry rudely awakened from his nap didn't have time to register the arrow stabbing into the side of his head. His eyes rolled back and he fell into prone position once more.

"Holy fuck!"

The second one was fumbling for his rifle to shoot her. Without missing a beat, Lara wrenches the arrow out the side of the mercenary's head and nocks it into her bow, the merc had just gotten the safety of his weapon off when Lara let loose.

The offending arrow slams home true right into his eye. The mercenary's head snapped back from the impact and fell without a sound. The last one, however, was up and running off towards the camp in terror.

"Help!" He cries at the top of his lungs. Too bad all that loud ruckus the entire camp was causing canceled out his voice. "I need some-"

The mercenary managed to get a few more steps before an arrowhead explodes out from his throat. The dying man gargles and stumbled forward a few steps forward before dropping on his knees, desperately trying to wrench the arrow out in vain.

A pair of slender hands wrapped around his face from behind, one on the top of his head and one below the chin. Sharply twisting his head left, then right, the last entry was put out of his misery.

Lara exhales, that was a close one.

She curses herself for not noticing the sleeping guards. She should have known better than to rush in blindly.

Ripping the arrows free, she frowns when upon closer inspection Lara realizes only one was in perfect shape to be reused. No matter, she could always make more in her free time.

Wiping off bits of brain matter and blood on the sleeves of the first sentry she killed, Lara sheaths the reusable arrow and proceeds to hide the bodies further into a thick bush.

"Damn you guys are heavy," she huffs as she drags the last one away. "Right, I need to find a way down." There was a trail of red glow sticks leading into the Trinity campsite. "This must have been how those sentries navigated their way here."

Carefully avoiding the path of glowsticks Lara managed to make her way around the campsite without alerting any more sentries. She came upon three more mercenaries huddled in a circle, looking over a map. The leader; map and torchlight in hand, was holding a discussion with the others.

She could take these guys but why do that when she could gain some precious information? With any luck, she'll be able to find out more about the ruby. She could always silence them afterward.

"-yeah so at sector 2, here," the leader shines the torchlight back and forth on the map, "we can plant the MG team from Tango 3 to act as a close fire group, they've got a good line of sight from here," he makes a sweeping gesture, "to this side of the ravine here."

"Sounds good, the arc of fire they have is wide enough to provide support fire for my guys in sector 3," nods the merc to his left.

"And the entrance?"

"I got Muzzie and Clarke as sentries. Deeper in are just the support crews working on the temple's entrance."

Lara's breath hitches in her throat, a short gasp escaping. they've found the temple? Trinity's efficient but never this efficient. Once again she's underestimated this wretched organization.

"What was that?" The leader swivels his head around. No way, how could he have heard that? Lara nocks an arrow into her bow in case she had to fight.

"What was what?" the other two swept the area with their weapons.

"Sounded like a gasp. My Comtac picked it up," the one with the map taps the headset he wore. Did that headset amplify one's hearing? She always thought the militants who wore those used it to get clearer radio transmissions.

A lone mercenary casually toting a rifle of the AK variant shambles past the trio and trudges right up towards her direction.

With the three of them on alert and this one walking up towards her, the stakes have never been higher. Her timing has to be impeccable.

"You think someone's here?" the other sounding merc prods with his Scottish accent.

"Like who, fuckin' Lara Croft?" The other two mercenaries tensed up at that suggestion.

The lone mercenary ambles past her and stops just a few feet away from Croft, unaware of the impending threat. Good, he's too far in the dark to be seen by the others.

As he lights up a cigarette, Lara sprang into action.

"Christ in a handbasket, Sebastian seriously?" deadpans the Trinity mercenary with the map.

"Calm ya' tits Dean, it was just a suggestion."

Lara had managed to get the arms of her bow over the man's throat and had him pinned down on the grass patch with a knee over his lower back. Oh, he struggled alright, kicking and lashing out and the throaty gurgles he made tugged at her heartstrings. At the end of the day, this was another human being. Someone's brother, somebody's son.

No. She tunes it out. Out here, she couldn't afford to show mercy.

Now all she had to do was apply enough pressure and-

 _CRACK!_

The spinal cord at the base of the neck was severed. At the very least he died quick.

"Ah, must have been one of the guys out for a smoke or something." The Trinity soldier with the map shrugs, the others nodding in agreement. Back they went to their planning.

The Scottish mercenary points out something on the map. "Roight, so who's on sentreh watch at sector 1?"

"Uh, three guys from DeMarco's team." They snicker at that. "Knowing DeMarco's boys, they're probably copping some Zees."

"Focking wankers," spat the Scot.

"Alright, I'm gonna go check on my boys. Seeya," murmurs the lead soldier, folding the map and striding off towards the temple's entrance. The other 2 went away in the other direction.

Keeping herself within the vegetation under the cover of darkness, Lara stealthily stalks the one with the map, if she could silence him and take the map, it would play well to her advantage.

As he turns around the bend, she comes across 2 men smoking within the vegetation. They wave at the merc as he passes by.

Dammit, there's no way around them. She'll have to take care of them first. Careful not to trip on any twigs, Lara creeps forward, a nasty 6-inch blade in reverse grip.

Adrenaline was kicking in full but it wasn't out of fear, no, this was the exhilarating rush of the thrill before the kill.

When she got within touching distance she lunges forward with power and uses her momentum to stab the first one in the back of the neck.

Down he goes with a choked scream. The second one swings with his rifle like a club, snarling with surprised anger. Lara slides beneath his attack and breaks into a roll right towards the gurgling body of the first mercenary she'd stabbed seconds ago.

He had a pistol in his leg holster but there was no time to take it out so she just flipped the safety and the pistol barks twice at the angry guard, shredding his ankle.

"Agh! FFUUUCCKK! My leg! Agh!"

Damn, the gun didn't have a suppressor.

Shouts echoed throughout the camp. There wasn't much time. She had to end this aside from wanting to shut the screaming guard up.

Lara yanks the pistol out of the holster and this time with better control of the weapon, she easily blows his brains out.

She notices the first guard was still barely hanging on to life, hands gripping the knife trying to stem blood loss, wheezing and gargling escaping his lips. From what little moonlight filtering over through the jungle top, she could see the mercenary's eyes didn't bore any anger or hatred towards her, just fear.

So much fear.

She looks away, disgusted at herself. She would forever have to live with the fact she's a killer. And a bloody good one at that.

As much as she hates Trinity, she hates even more what she has become. She's crossed lines that she'd sworn long ago never to cross.

Pointing the gun at the dying man, she whispers a silent apology before ending his life.

"I'm sorry."

 _'I want them all dead. So why am I feeling this way? At what cost will I have to pay in order to bring down Trinity?'_ she shakes her head, now's not the time for idle thoughts.

One of the dead sentry's radio fizzes to life. "Tango 5-3 this is 0-0 we heard shots fired. What's going on out there, over?"

She wrenches the radio from the dead guard. This could be handy, she could monitor their channel and use it to further avoid detection.

"This is Tango 2-1, we heard gunfire, ah I've sent Carl and Frank to investigate, over."

"Tango 4-1, copy, I got Lang and Rodriguez on standby just in case."

"Tango 1 Actual, ready to reinforce if needed, over."

"Tango 5-1, likewise to Tango 1 Actual's last over."

"All stations, this is Tango 3-1 my sentries in sector 1 aren't reporting in. We definitely got no-duff here boys, over."

"0-0 acknowledge. Possible intruder in the AO and unknown number of friendly casualties. All Tangos check in with your guys then proceed to sweep and clear your sectors, over."

"Tango 3-1 to 0-0, I can't raise my guys in sector 1 on the net, I'm assuming they're down, over."

She barely even had time to keep the sentry's radio before someone cries out "Contact front!" and bullets slam all around her.

"Oh my god, I think its Croft!" yells another merc from above. Eery green lasers attempt to tag her but she moves fast, taking advantage of her lithe form and speed to blend into the darkness and vegetation.

"All stations, this is Tango 2-1. We've got eyes on a female intruder and we're in pursuit. Mick and Antony are down. I think its Lara Croft over!" fizzes the stocky radio in Lara's hand.

 _'It IS me, you moron!'_ she screams within the depths of her mind whilst running for her life.

"0-0, confirm your last? Did you just say Lara Croft?"

"Tango 2-1, that's a positive! She's got a fucking bow like some Lord Of The Rings kinda bullshit! Who else would it fucking be?"

"0-0, roger that. Herd her into sector 4, we'll cut her off there."

Not gonna happen. Lara sprints off in the other direction. She had no idea where sector 4 was but she hoped it wasn't where she was headed.

"Tango 2-1, negative, negative," pants the voice on the radio. Clearly, he was one of the two chasing her from behind. A bullet lands dangerously close to her shoulder and embeds itself into a tree trunk. "Croft's changed directions. She's headed for the entrance. Muzzie, Clarke standby to...huff...huff engage her."

"Tango 1-2, copy. Ready and waiting."

"MG team she's coming up on your two o'clock, light her-"

A loud, long burst drummed out the transmission. On instinct, Lara gets down and attempts to crawl through the machine gun fire, large chunks of the ground being ripped off all around her.

Trinity had never employed such a heavy armament for the ground troops before and the experience was terrifying. Flamethrowers - _far and few in between_ , small arms, light machineguns but never a fucking GPMG! The sound, the raw destructive power of the static machine gun coupled with its explosive rate of fire was just overwhelming.

"I see you, motherfucker!" yells a voice from behind. Lara, still lying prone on the ground, turns and shoots with her newly acquired pistol, forcing her two pursuers to get behind cover. The MG fire wasn't letting up anytime soon, just a steady stream of heavy caliber rounds strafing just above her head. Caught between a rock and a hard place, and things looked bleak for the young archaeologist.

In a sheer stroke of luck, the disciplined bursts of the machine-gun abruptly stops and the sentry's radio in her back pocket rang out once more.

"Ah shit, 15 seconds, we gotta change the MG barrel before it overheats. Keep at em' boys." That was all she needed.

She ran out of the thick foliage and ended up right into the open area that is Trinity's campsite, the two pursuers snapping off shots at her from behind and hurling colorful languages.

A spotlight immediately captures her in its illuminating glare. Her eyes turn towards the temple's entrance. There, it's just a skip and a hop away.

She could lose them inside the tunnels and crypts and slowly whittle them down as they try to flush her out.

The young woman shoots the spotlight, sowing more confusion and chaos before gunning towards the temple's entrance with gunfire hounding her every step of the way. The pistol she held would bark occasionally but never find its mark.

Click, click. Shit, it's empty.

Tossing the gun aside, Lara unslings her bow mid-stride and let loose an arrow at one of the gunmen who suddenly appears in front of her.

He drops like a sack of potatoes as the arrow nails him right between the eyes and a few inches out the back of his head. She winces at the gruesome sight. Some things you can never get used to.

Taking cover behind a giant boulder at the face of the temple's entrance she reloads her bow and pops out of cover only to see a wall of Trinity mercenaries converging on her.

Right, time to even the odds. She nocks her bow in with a special arrow. This one was coated with Greek fire at the tip. Perfect for crowd control.

Within moments, a fire was spreading amongst the soldiers, their bloodcurdling screams of agony ripping through the rainforest.

"Oh god! Arrgh!"

"H-help! Arrgh!"

"It burns! It burrrnsss!"

Peeking out of the bullet-ridden boulder, she saw what surviving mercenaries fanning out to flank her, the unfortunate ones could be seen lying down, charred beyond recognition.

"Josh..Joshuaaa...help me," rasps one of the burnt soldiers.

One of the mercenaries whom she assumed was Joshua wails in despair upon seeing his friend's ruined body. He quickly began dragging the badly wounded man away from the fight. "Hang in there Lang!"

The poor sizzling bastard known as Lang could only scream in pain as his buddy drags him out of the fight.

Two shooters managed to flank her but were quickly rewarded for their efforts with immolation by a second arrow. They were too close to one another such that the fire simply washed over them both.

Needless to say, they didn't die peacefully.

"Get her! Fucking kill her!" hollers one of the private contractors, angry and eager to avenge his buddies.

"You're dead bitch! Fucking dead!" calls out another.

"I'm gonna rape your corpse so fuckin' hard you'll feel it in hell!"

Slugs punched through the air around the tomb raider. The radio in Lara's hands reported more reinforcements en-route to deal with her. Great, this just keeps getting better and better.

Already the mercenaries were closing in, years of military training and combat experience coming into play. Each time she decides to pop out and loose an arrow, sharp bursts of fire would force her to rethink her decision.

If only she had her gas arrow, they sure would come in handy right now. Not only would the toxic fumes wipe them out, but it'll also obscure their line of sight as well, alas she'd decided not to bring them along. It was one thing to set a man on fire and watch him die, it was another entirely to watch him asphyxiate as his lungs liquefy into a puddle of organic soup.

"Note to self," murmurs Lara over the din of heavy gunfire, as she chides herself over the morality of using poison gas arrows. "Gas arrows may be extremely unethical yet their use is very much effective. Reminder to bring out one or two next time in case of emergency."

The boulder shudders as more and more men arrive and started adding in their own firepower into the mix. They weren't even trying to aim, though they really should. Perhaps having a single target trapped behind a very big rock is enticing enough to start mag-dumping.

"There must be a way out of here, c'mon Lara you're a survivor you can get out of this! Think! Think!"

But there was no way out. She could see faint silhouettes of more men with flashlights coming from almost every direction even from the small cliff above.

Lara's heart raced for salvation and for a moment there, she even considered praying to that selfish fuck-up in the clouds whom most people would call 'God'.

"This is for Lang you sick fuck!" a fist-sized object sails in the air and lands right in front of her. There was no time to think, she had to _move_!

Lara barely escaped its kill radius before the explosion consumes the bullet-ridden boulder and everything else within five meters. Shrapnel pierces her hand, causing her to howl in agony. The blast wave flings her a few feet into the air and crashing into the semi-damp soil. Everything hurt, Lara could only wheeze in pain as she tries to suck in air little by little. A few minor sprains, a ruined arm, and a cracked rib were her prospects if she was lucky.

Her vision grew dim and darkness began enveloping her in its embrace. Before completely passing out she saw a pair of muddy boots belonging to another one of Trinity' mercenaries standing in front of her, his face was blurred from the concussion she might have gotten from that explosion.

He had his weapon poised to end her life.

"Wait," another mercenary cuts in, hand lowering his comrade's weapon. "Didn't you hear it over the net? Walter wants her alive. She could be useful."

Their conversation was mercifully muted out as she felt the darkness overtaking her.

 _'No...Sam, Jonah, everyone...I'm sorry I failed you.'_ She passes out immediately after.

* * *

 **1 hour earlier...**

It was now coming into Day 3 of the expedition and things were coming along smoothly.

Much has happened earlier today, aside from the food and clothing resupply, two additional combat teams were airlifted in alongside engineers and a small team of archaeologists to assist with Walter's operation, thus nearly doubling the number of the expedition party.

All of the deadlines and taskings that were given have been met and the temple heads flitting around were positive they were on the right track to the _Gema O Diablos_. Everyone was in high spirits. In roughly 72 hours the Order shall have their prize and the contractors would be on the flight back home with a hefty bonus to be credited into their next paycheck. However, before one could know pleasure, one must first know pain. And that lies in bypassing whatever traps these savages had left behind in order to get to the ruby.

Most of the temple heads share the consensus that the traps were inactive by now, theorizing they could not have withstood the test of time and therefore have gone obsolete, aside from leaving behind a macabre display for those who would come centuries after. Another interesting event that happened earlier that day was when the plastic explosive kits the engineers set up blew down the god knows how much ton worth of rubble shielding the entrance to the supposed lost temple, a loud roaring gust of wind rushed forward to meet those standing closest to the hole.

Not only was it astonishingly loud but it smelt something god awful. Like something that has been rotting for years and still hasn't been fully decomposed. The eery display earlier this afternoon had caused several rumors surrounding the ruby to spring up from amongst the crew. That the temple was cursed and some things were best left alone. Needless to say, it scared the hell out of a lot of folks, barring only the Trinity field agent who was seemingly unaffected by the howling wind and the stench.

Walter simply strode forward with confidence and a gleeful twinkle in his eyes as he and his team of temple heads flocked towards the gigantic hole. The man was in his element.

It was now 2100 hours, local time and the expedition team doesn't seem to be turning in for the night anytime soon. There was still so much work to be done. Muzzie and Clarke were posted as sentries to the giant hole the engineers blew down this afternoon. Mini stools were set up further into the tunnel leading to the temple entrance. From there, the two would take turns to rotate and sit down for a smoke before coming back out for watch duty. Deeper in at the very entrance itself were the support staff. Non-combatants essentially.

It was a cushy job actually. You just sit there and try to look like you're actually doing something when you're not. And you're still getting paid. They lit up a smoke and enjoyed their sticks in silence, quietly observing the men down below hauling cargo and patrolling the perimeter. Ah, such is life.

"Glad I'm not down there," muses Clarke all of a sudden.

"What?" Muhammad turns, cigarette stick latched between his gloved thumb and index finger. "You said something?"

"Down there. Look at 'em," he points to the men sweating bricks as they lug heavy crates of ammunition, equipment, and ropes the size of man's neck back and forth. "Sorry ass motherfuckers."

"I agree. I'd rather stand guard here. They ain't paying me enough anyway."

"How much they paying you by the way? Two thousand a week? Three?"

"Three and a half." smirks the rookie as exhales a cloud full of toxins.

"Holy fuck, Trinity must be desperate. When I first signed up in 'Oh-12, It was just two grand a week."

"Times have changed man,"

"Yeah..." Clarke has that forlorn look again as he stares off into the dark. Muhammad notices that his teammates seem to suffer from the same afflictions as Clarke did, sometimes zoning out and getting the jitters but they weren't druggies as far as he knew.

No, this was a symptom of PTSD.

He'd seen stuff like this only in war films, but to actually see a fellow man zone out, haunted by the darkness of his past was a whole new experience. And one he felt helpless in knowing he had no clue, no idea how to help.

Was this the fate of what awaits him, later on in his career as a military contractor for Trinity? To be constantly assaulted by flashbacks and memories of all the terrible things he'd done in the organizations' name?

But there was no time to dwell in neither past nor future but to live in the present for something terrifying has graced them with its presence.

A report came in over the net, something about three missing men. It would have been easily dismissed as the guys slacking off on duty had it not been for the gunshots and frantic shouting that came quickly after.

This made everyone on edge. Especially when Frank from Team 2 hollered contact with _Lara-fucking-Croft_. They hadn't heard from Frank since thus there was little left to imagination as to what his fate was. As more and more gunfire cut through the night, someone voices over the comms she was headed for the hole they were guarding.

The _'Raging Phoenix'_ Dean had so aptly described was here and she was headed for them both.

"You ever faced anything like this before?" swallows Muhammad as he half cocks the charging handle on the SAR-MMS, satisfied with seeing a round already chambered into the carbine.

Clarke had dropped into a high-kneel position, night-vision goggles powered on and the M-4 carbine held at high alert. "Nah, but don't worry man. You got me to watch your back brother, we're gonna nail that bitch real good when she gets here."

"Wish Manuela were here, I'd really tear his ass wide open right now." grunts Muzzie, _'See, I told you she's real you fucking puta!'_ he'd say to the Hispanic.

The sharp bursts of assault rifles grew closer and closer. _Bop-Bop-Bop. Bop-Bop-Bop._ The barking of instructions and panicked shouting flooding through his radio was helping neither so he tunes it down a little.

"Wish I'd had a bigger gun," grumbles Clarke.

"Seriously?" he snickers. "What, an M4's not good enough to get the job done?"

"At this stage in the fight, I want a fuckin' AA-12. And some fucking air-support would be great too."

"You and me both."

Muzzie fiddles with the SAR MMS, mindlessly clicking the safety on and off while anxiously waiting for the inevitable confrontation with Croft to kick off.

The radio weaved into his vest hisses with static before a voice cuts in, gunfire going off in the background.

"MG team she's coming up on your two o' clock, light her-"

The machine gun team needed no further probing, immediately letting loose a long burst with their M-240B. The entire campsite was drowned out by the powerful thundering of the general purpose machine gun.

"Think they'll get her?"

"What'd you say?" yelled Muzzie's buddy unable to beat the roar of a firing GPMG.

"I said d'you think they'll get her?"

"What the machine gun?" an incredulous look on Clarke's face, as though he'd just swallowed a lemon whole.

"No, I mean the guys chasing her. I know the MG's just to trap her in place-"

"What?"

"Ugh forget it."

For a whole minute, this continued. Long angry bursts of GPMG fire interspersed by softer, tighter bursts of assault rifles. That is, till the MG overheat and the team responsible had to change its barrel leaving only the staccato of small arms fire to deal with Croft.

"Ah shit, 15 seconds, we gotta change the MG barrel before it overheats." apologizes the machine gun commander, you could tell he sounded real embarrassed by the weapon overheating at such short notice.

"Motherfuckers!" snarls Clarke as he angrily kicks a pebble away. "You don't pull long bursts with a weapon like that and expect the barrel not to overheat!"

"Give it a rest man, Doyle's been through some tough shit in Afghan, maybe he had a reason for doing what he did,"

"Oh, don't gimme that bullshit Muzzie, you know as well as I that firing an _EM-GEE_ like that is bound to fuck up the weapon itself. And what the fuck do you know about combat? You're a fuckin' pog, in the rear with the goddamn gear."

"That's not very nice," mumbled Muzzie as his comrade ignores him. As much as that stung real bad, Clarke had a point.

Muhammad had never been in a real firefight before, his conscription into the Infantry was simply a national constitution he was obligated to fulfill as a citizen.

There weren't any wars to fight, no conflicts to be resolved through violent means aside from the occasional show of strength. As it is, this would be his first rodeo.

A blinding flash of light sprung up from the jungle, grabbing their attention once more. There were...screams. Sounds no man by all rights could not and should not make. And one Muzzie hopes to never hear again.

How wrong he was.

"Jesus Fuckin' Christ! What's going on down there!?" yells the ex-Marine into his radio.

"It's Croft! She used some kinda flammable arrow. Roasted half my team!" replied someone on the verge of breaking down. "I need help here goddamnit! Lang's barely hanging on but we've got the bitch trapped!"

"We gonna help?" asks Muhammad, eager to fight. Though he was just curious to know what _she_ looks like.

"One sec," says Clarke as he clicks the radio's PTT button. "1-2 here, you guys ah, need a hand flushing her out, over?"

"0-0, negative. Hold your position. Maintain security of the tunnel entrance, out."

"Well, that's that." shrugs the American.

"Oh well," frowns Muhammad, a little disappointed. A sudden explosion grabs their attention once again.

"Wha-what is it now?" wails Muhammad as the shockwave throws him off balance.

"Someone must've thrown a grenade," grunts Clarke as he fell off his field chair. "Thanks, man," he says as the newbie helps him up.

They could hear the men below cheering. Did they win? Was _she_...dead?

"Hey, command!" whooped someone over the net. "We got the bitch! We smoked her ass real good!"

"0-0, tossing a frag at her isn't good enough. Show me her corpse then I'll believe you."

This time someone else spoke into the radio. He sounded really pissed. "Sir, I'm looking at her right now. She ain't dead but she's pretty fucked up. Requesting permission to finish her off?"

Walter's voice came in all of a sudden. Rather unprecedented for the man seldom involves himself directly into such affairs, normally leaving them to the team leaders.

Unlike Konstantin and some of the other agents of Trinity, he was purely a man of archaeology, not a man of war-gaming and strategy.

"Joshua, this is Walter you read me?"

"Loud and clear sir,"

"Listen to me carefully. I've dispatched another team to help. They're cross-trained in medical so they should be able to tend to your wounded. I want Croft alive. I say again, I want her alive. Do not terminate her."

"Sir, with respect, this bitch wiped out more than a dozen of us and she scorched half my team."

"You want blood, I understand but this is bigger than you." He pauses. "Or me. Command was very clear on this mission. We don't find that stone, we're never going home. She can be of great use to us. Afterward, you can settle whatever score you have with her." implores the Trinity agent as he attempts to reason with an enraged Joshua.

There was a long pause at the end of the line.

"Fine." came Joshua's brisk reply and the comm clicks off once more.

"Well...shit," was all Clarke managed as him and Muhammad exchange glances.

"Hey 1-2, come in." It was Dean.

"1-2, send, over," replies Muhammad over the comms.

"Muzzie, I need your help. Get down here and meet me at where all these idiots are gathering."

"What about Clarke? I can't just leave him up here all alone."

"He can handle it,"

Clarke simply nods at that. "Yeah, no sweat man. I got this, just go on."

"Ai'ght man," he gives the ex-marine a bro-fist before heading down.

"Roger that, papa, I'm Oscar-Mike, over."

"Copy that, out."

Fast forward a few minutes and Muzzie found himself mixed in with a large crowd of Trinity's other contractors, both combatants, and non-combatants.

Looks like they were all eager to get a look at the legendary Lara Croft. Dean was there along with two others engaged in a shouting match with Joshua's boys. Or what's left of them.

"-let me through motherfucker I'm gonna-"

"You ain't gonna do squat Josh unless Walter says so!"

"He can blow it outta his ass, did you see what she did to Carlson?" the merc stabs a finger towards a body nestled against a tree.

"Oh fuck me," Muzzie nearly hurls at the sight of a fellow merc with an arrow deeply engorged in his forehead.

Thank God for the cover of darkness otherwise, Muhammad would have seen the poor bastard's dead eyes rolled back, mouth agape, lips stained with blood.

Suddenly Muzzie too shared the merc's anger. To enact revenge on the brutal murder of a colleague.

"I saw what she did to Lang, Nelson, Miles and fucking Eddie! But we got orders from top. Get your shit together, Joshua!" Dean shoves the offending merc back a few steps.

"Fuck!" yells the merc as he throws his arms up in frustration before stomping off. Dean turns and finds Muhammad amongst the crowd of eager onlookers.

"Muzzie!" he waves the newbie over. "Get over here kid!"

"Yo," he says as he greets his team leader.

"Don't _'yo_ me kid. Shit just hit the fucking fan and I'm waist deep in it all."

Yep, papa Dean has definitely seen better days.

"Wow, that bad huh?" Muzzie's voice trails off as he gives Croft's unconscious form a once over.

She was a rugged beauty in his humble opinion.

Almond shaped face, slender yet toned arms splayed out on the forest floor and a figure Victoria Secrets models would murder to have. Yet one couldn't overlook the scars and creases of hardship lining her body.

He notices her hands were entirely wrapped up in bandages, looks like the medics had decided to patch her up as well. Not that she deserves the help, rather it was done out of necessity.

Walter wants her alive and unspoiled.

"Our team was the only one out here that didn't suffer any casualties from her rampage so you tell me."

"Fuck. So what happens now?"

"As you say it where you come from, _*sai-kang (Shit job)_. Teams with casualties are gonna be reshuffled around except ours and Walter's tasked us to collect the dead and salvage their gear. I've sent the rest of our boys to assist."

"What about Clarke? He's still up there." gestures Muzzie to the lone figure standing in front of the giant hole. That same figure waves at them with his middle finger.

Dean flips the bird right back at him. "Yeah fuck you too," he mumbles before turning his attention to Muhammad once more.

"Someone needs to guard the entrance. Walter's fine with having just one man on guard. Plus manpower is a little short so we're really trying to stretch things out here." turning back to look at Muhammad, Dean continues. "You, on the other hand, have a special task that needs doing,"

Muhammad raises his eyebrows at the mention of 'special task' from Dean.

"What kind of task we talking here?"

With a smile, Dean slaps a hand against Muzzie's shoulder. "Okay, so I need you to help me get her into Walter's tent and zip-tie her down nice and tight."

"Seriously?" it wasn't such a bad idea. Ever since Muhammad's heard of Lara Croft and all the shit she's caused for his bosses, he's been really interested to get know more about her and this was a great opportunity not to pass up.

But then meant staying up. No rest. No sleep. Constant vigilance. Suddenly it didn't seem like a great thing after all.

"Yeah, you'll be spending the rest of the night guarding her till she wakes up."

"All by myself?" backpedals the newbie. "Cmon, Dean. Me, alone? Nobody to rotate with? Fuck me, shit."

"Well, I'd give you another set of helping hands but we're dead short on manpower right now so you're gonna have to take one for the team, Muzzie. I'll try to keep you away from all the strenuous shit tomorrow." sighs the older merc. "Besides, just cop some zees in whenever that old fart's unaware. It's not like he's got eyes on the back of his head."

"Alright, alright. Fine!" Muhammad throws his arms up exasperatedly. "One for the team. But there better be a goddamn bonus for this. Or extra risk allowance!"

"Thanks, Muzzie. Knew I could count on you." smiles Dean tiredly before going back to crowd control leaving Muhammad to heave possibly 50 kilos of toned muscle and killer-instinct.

If she wakes and tries to attack him, he'll just drop her. And shoot her. Orders be damned.

"Fucking *chibai la~," laments the newbie before carrying her bridal style. Scooping her up with a grunt, Muhammad was amazed by how soft her flesh was and how fragile she felt in his arms.

Lara Croft was _different_ as to his initial opinion about her, physical wise.

She smelt of sweat, musk and wet grass. No surprise there, he himself needed a shower badly. He probably stank of muddy ballsack dipped in rancid mayonnaise.

 _'Oh God,'_ Muhammad nearly hurls at that thought. But with the state of how things are in the field, a solid shower is the least on one's mind.

Some of the mercs began whooping and cheering at the sight of him holding her in his arms bridal style.

"Heh yeah, boy." He gave a turn and proceeded to give the guys a sly wink, further egging them on.

"What is this? A fuckin' strip show? Back to work ya goddamn apes!" yells Joshua stomping into view, obviously still pissed off about losing four of his guys. "Get the fuck back to work!"

"And you!"

He calls out to Muzzie who turns with a blank look. He never liked Joshua anyways. And for good reason too.

"Get your perfidious ass outta here before I rip your balls off."

Ah yes, perfidy. The root word for infidel.

Joshua was your typical hardcore zealot. He'd be the head of some hate-group in the back ends down South were it not for the fact his skills as an ex-Navy Seal had captured Trinity's attention. Muhammad's teammates were zealous in their faith too but not to the extreme to start hating on other religions. Sad, really. They just thought theirs was the right one out of the hundreds out there. Same goes for Muzzie apparently.

"C'mon, let's go, you've caused us all enough trouble for one night," mumbles the mercenary to an unconscious Croft in his arms as he carries her to Walter's tent.

"Whoa, shit" he nearly drops her when a pair of toned slender arms wrapped themselves around his neck. "Goddamn it," he sighs with a tired smile. She was downright gorgeous even when she was knocked out.

Inside the Trinity agent's tent, it was a mess of notes, doodles, and map cutouts. A single LED camping lantern lay poised on the foldable table to illuminate the tent. Walter was halfway buried into his research when Muzzie came in.

"Sir, permission to enter?"

The balding, bespectacled, bearded man pauses from his work before slowly turning.

"Ah, come in." In steps the mercenary carrying Lara Croft, bridal style. Upon seeing the Muslim, he breaks into a smile. "You're the new guy, right? Mohammed?"

 _'It's Muhammad, goddamnit.'_ bristles the mercenary inwardly.

"Ah, yes sir," smiles Muzzie, slightly consoled by the fact that his superior know his name at the very least. "Where can I set her down?"

"Just there," he points to the edge of his table. "You can cuff her to the leg of the table."

As Muhammad sets her down and breaks out the zip-ties to cuff her down, Walter steps in from behind with a mug of coffee, quietly observing him at work.

"I could tell you were the new guy, there's a distinctive feature about you which sets you apart from all my staff."

"Oh really?" smiles the merc as he finishes his task and turns to face his superior.

"Oh yes, you're the shortest among my security team,"

Muhammad drops his smile almost immediately. "Eh, _*walao!_ C'mon ah sir. Don't say it like that, I feel insecure already," much to Walter's amusement.

"Come now, nothing to be ashamed of. Your short stature's never hindered you from any given task now has it?"

"Uh, not at all, sir,"

"I expected as much. So, do you want anything? Coffee? Sweets? Cigarettes?"

"Uh no sir," chuckles the mercenary nervously at his superior's strange display of generosity. "I'm good. Still got a few packs of cigs on me," he pats one of the pouches on his vest containing his stash of smokes.

"Ah," he sounded a little disappointed. "Well at least grab a field bench. You can have a seat and watch her."

"Oh, sure. Thank you, sir."

"Its no problem. Just be sure to keep your weapon handy. She's a real firecracker," murmurs Walter as he goes back to scribbling something on his pocketbook.

As Muhammad sat and puffs merrily on his cigarette, he takes in the surroundings of the tent. Heck, it felt like a hotel room than an oversized tent! A boiler, a mini power generator, a little stove in the corner.

"The fuck," was all he said, awed by the luxuries his boss had in his tent.

Hours ticked by uneventfully. Walter had fallen asleep on his notes, no surprise there. Muhammad himself was fighting the sweet lull of sleep and the mosquitos.

The coils he lit didn't seem to work, 'commando mosquitos' as he referred to them back in his army days. Bloodsuckers on crack that could bite through even body armor.

"Piss off already!" groans Muhammad, swatting the mosquitoes away tiredly.

It's 2 am and fatigue was setting in. Walter's dead asleep and so is the infamous she-Rambo, KO-ed and tied up. No one would miss him catching a little shut-eye.

"Fuck it, just a quick nap. Nobody's gonna know anyways."

He was rudely awoken from his nap by the sound of thunder and heavy rainfall. "*Wow, hujan dok. Lebat lagi." ( _Wow it's raining. And quite heavily too.)_ frowns the mercenary as he observes the thick, fat droplets of water pitter-pattering outside the tent. "Pagi tadi panas terik, malam ni hujan ape la cuaca tempat ini, macam sial." ( _It was scorching hot the whole afternoon but it rains real bad at night. The weather here's messed up.)_

" _*Shukur Alhamdulillah aku kat dalam sini,_ " _(Thank God I'm in here and not out there,)_ hums Muzzie happily at his luck of being sheltered from the rain.

A soft moan brought his attention to the unconscious form before him. It's _her_. Was she coming to? He waves a hand in front of her. No reaction. She's probably having a bad dream and she's shivering.

Great.

That's what happens when you get caught in heavy rain with nothing but a pair of singlet and some kind of cargo pants.

 _'Wow, nice ass. No, stop it. Bad.'_

The tussling, shivering and moaning continued on till it upsets him entirely. "For fuck's sakes, even unconscious you're causing trouble." curses Muhammad as he stands his head at her restless form, he storms out of the command tent and out into the rain.

"Great, now I'm all wet and cold myself."

He went past the men on watch duty and heads for his MATILDA pack. There, he found the rest of his team huddled together with a groundsheet overhead to protect them from the rain and merrily having a smoke.

"Hey, Muzzie!" Cheers Tyoma over the heavy rain.

"Still alive eh?" grins Manuela as he flicks the zippo lighter on and off.

"What thing still alive?" mumbles the newbie as he rummages through his pack for that Goretex jacket.

 _Stupid rain. Stupid mosquitos. Stupid woman. stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Fuck!_

"The boys had a bet," Dean explains. "that Croft would wake up and-"

"And what? Kill me?" snaps the annoyed mercenary with his hands on his hips.

"Pretty much it, amigo," chuckles Manuela. "And now I'm ten bucks poorer. Fuck you Muzzie,"

"More like fuck you," flips Muzzie, a small smile on his face igniting a round of laughter. "Yall are some of the worst bunch of*chibai _**[Cunts]**_ that I've ever known,"

"All in good fun, man." smiles Tyoma. "Anyways, what brings you back? Croft awake yet?"

Muzzie gave a sigh and shakes his head as the heavy rain and wind slather across his unprotected head and face. He shouldn't have stuffed that shemagh back into the pack.

"Nah, I can't sleep la _sia_. She keeps shivering and making all sorts of noises it's fucking pissing me off."

"You're on watch cum-for-brains, you're not allowed to sleep!" says Clarke with a chuckle. "Why don't you make like an actual boot and do your job for real?"

"Or, why don't _you_ come over here and measure _'_ _Deez Nutz'_ in your mouth," Muzzie was given a playful punch to the shoulder in response. "Anyways, I came here just to get my jacket and give it to her. See if she'll stop, you know?"

"Aww," went the guys in his team.

"Real smooth, bro," grins Clarke.

"Careful now, don't fuck her while she sleeps!"

"Whatever, fuck the whole lot of you." a fresh round of laughter followed that comment.

Unzipping the Goretex, he drapes it onto Lara's wet, shivering form. Almost immediately she stops and a sigh of content escapes her lips.

"Nice," smiles Muhammad to himself, proud of his deed. "Now please, please don't give me any more trouble and let me get some rest,"

Plopping back against the field chair, the newbie merc leans forward and rests his head against his carbine's muzzle like a crutch. As Muhammad tries to get some sleep in, he began to regret leaving the tent as the bone-chilling winds batter against his wet fatigues causing him to shiver uncontrollably as well.

*"Sial ah, sekarang aku pulak yang mengigil." ( _Damn it, now I'm the one who's shivering)_

But it wasn't as bad as compared to the poor fuckers on shift, stuck out there in the rain. They had his sympathies that's for sure.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **Still there? _Wow_ , you guys really did make it through all those chunks of words I threw at ya. Hope you guys enjoyed it and as usual, send me a review or drop a PM. Till next time, _Ciao!_**


	4. Mi casa, su casa

**Summary:**

 **Lara's gotten herself captured and Muzzie's stuck with watching over her. With things looking bleak for Lara, will our death-defying heroine be able to get out of this mess?**

 **Updated on 14/09/2019**

* * *

Muhammad woke to the sound of men barking out orders. Cracking his sleepy eyes open, he was immediately assaulted by what little sunray filtering in through the tent flaps, a not so subtle courtesy from the sun that it was now daybreak. Taking his time to get his bearings right, the newbie slowly stretches about. Day 4, _make or break_. And there was much work to be done later on. He lets out a soft groan.

 _Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale._ Morning routine. Gets him psyched for whatever the day has in store for him. With a sigh, the PMC sat up slowly, basking in the first rays of the morning sun as a light chilly breeze passes on through. Yep, it's still cold outside. The rain and the morning dew had seen to that but by midday, the weather will be back in full force with its heat and humidity.

"What time is it?" He sees 07:00:31. "Oh fuck me, I slept through the entire watch."

Eh no big deal, he shrugs.

 _'What's Walter gonna do? Shoot me? He can eat a dick and watch Croft himself if he thinks pulling a night watch is easy_ _,'_

He shrugs at the thought. Swerving his head left and right, Muzzie sees Pendanski and Croft still out so right now there wasn't much to do aside from waiting for Walter to rouse from his sleep and take further instructions from thereon. Other than Muhammad, there weren't any other contractors inside the command tent. Makes sense, only the team leaders were allowed in and even then they had way too much on their hands to come in and go as they please.

Free time was a luxury afforded only to those with a higher appointment, ground-pounders such as himself were consigned to a fate worse than death; _S_ _ai Kang (Ad-hoc, heavy-lifting, grunt work)_

 _'At least I'm being paid well enough for this shit. Still, I don't mind if they'd pay me just a little bit higher. Like another thousand bucks higher. In Euros- aww man that would be nice.'_

Muzzie seriously hopes to rejoin his team in the effort soon, it's starting to get boring real fast just sitting there wasting away watching over Lara fucking Croft. Speaking of Croft, that woman really was something else. He steals a glance at her, still draped in his Goretex jacket.

 _'Cute.'_ He thinks with a smile.

She looked so peaceful and harmless now that she's unconscious, yet so...terrifying when she was awake. Nobody expected her to show up in Brazil of all places and start fucking things up. In the short span of time she was loose in base camp, Croft racked up a respectable body count of twelve security operators. Twelve guys with vastly superior training and experience than Muhammad and Croft tore them apart like it was fucking Tuesday. A question formed at just what chance did he have in taking her down if she broke free?

That cold feeling in his gut returned and Muhammad quickly shakes those thoughts away. He's armed while she's tied down and weaponless. At this point, only the Almighty could help her.

"Know what? Maybe I should take a walk, get some fresh air," he mumbles with a slight nod to himself. All cooped up in the tent must be getting to him. Just a little stroll 'round the perimeter to stretch his legs and get some air. Perhaps even a quick chat or two with the guys.

Grabbing his weapon, Muzzie sets off for a little walk whilst munching on a fruit bar. Even in the field, he's gotta keep his macros up, gains and all.

 _Squish. Squish. Squish._ Went his boots as the newbie trudged over the mud and onto a makeshift bridge. He flattens his body to the side as a pair of mercs carrying a big metal box amble past him, heaving and groaning. Muzzie recognizes their faces; they were part of the new additions who'd flown in with the resupply chopper.

No words were exchanged as they made their way past one another.

Empty faces from his colleagues greet him as they quietly went about their business, welding, rigging, chopping, hauling. Some ignored him, some would give a cordial nod in his direction. His guys were in the thick of it slogging their butts off and it made Muzzie felt really guilty. All around as far as his eyes could see were his fellow comrades breaking their backs and sweating buckets yet here he was sheltered from it all. With last night's attack killing off nearly a quarter of their manpower and the heavy downpour damaging some of the equipment, the expedition team was set back several paces.

Wires and riggings had to be tied down and secured, stores had to be re-accounted for and any damages wrought by the heavy downpour last night needed to be fixed post-haste.

The engineers had built makeshift bridges and pulley systems to be used in transporting men and equipment once inside the temple but with last night's heavy rain dampening the soil and turning the entire area within and around the expedition team into a muddy hellscape, more had to be built just to traverse from one side of the camp to the other. With a deadline to meet in less than six hours and the men fighting through heat, humidity, exhaustion and loss, it was little wonder why morale was at an all-time low.

It was now '8 in the morning and the heat was packing on, the temperature steadily climbing. It's frustrating just how fickle minded the weather could be here in this part of the world. The night before it pissed on them with a vengeance but this morning it looks as though the powers-that-be was driven to evaporate every last drop of water back into the atmosphere.

Already complaints of heat rash and athlete's foot were starting to spread throughout the camp.

In fact, Muzzie swore his soles were starting to feel funny, like the beginning of a nasty itch forming up beneath, he'd better have that taken care of once they've royally fucked off out of here.

He came upon more and more people but the other contractors paid him no mind as he went past them although a few did look up and wave at their strange co-worker. As he went deeper into the jungle, Muzzie came upon Tyoma and Clarke who were tasked with burying last night's casualties. Just the two of them with oversized shovels digging an enormous pit to throw the bodies in. The dead were all neatly piled up in a straight row still in their personal effects and gear. Their weapons and ammunition were gone, probably salvaged and redistributed.

Muhammad had seen natural causes of death but this was the first time he came upon a scene of carnage.

" _Yech! What the-_ " he nearly hurls. Not only did they die violently, but they were also starting to _smell_. " _Oh my God,"_

 _"Sukka_ just be thankful you're in that tent doing nothing and not out here doing this!" growls the Russian as he shovels a large chunk of dirt out of the ground. Clarke says nothing but he continues walking up and down mumbling a mismatch of words Muzzie didn't quite understand.

"What's he doing?"

"Giving them their last rites. Here we cannot afford any fancy funeral rituals. So he's taken it on himself to say a few words and throw some dirt. Its the least these sorry bastards deserve." sighs Tyoma whilst shaking his head.

As morbid as that sounded, this was the reality each and every PMC faced in their line of work. To be buried in a ditch so far away from home, how melancholic. It was high-risk yet high-paying for a reason. But one cannot possibly spend all that money if one is dead now can he?

"Will their families know?" he asks softly as he inspects one of the bodies. This one looked young, he had an arrow stabbed through the side of his head. Probably a couple of years past Muhammad at best, maybe even the same age. Tragic waste of youth.

As much as he felt pity for the deceased, he couldn't offer any prayers lest he incurs God's wrath. At the end of the day, they were still _kafir_. Islam forbade him from offering prayers to the bodies of non-muslims.

"They will more or less receive a letter of condolences," says Clarke as he finally speaks. "But it'll probably be just some bullshit like how their loved one died in a freak accident or something."

"No pensions given to the fam' too, that's fucked up," recoils Muhammad with apprehension.

"It is what it is, bro, you knew the risks when you signed your life away on that dotted line for a quick buck," says Tyoma sagely to which Muhammad quietly disagrees. It's not always about the money.

"So why are you out here, boot? Relieved of watch yet?"

"Nah, I just...came out to take a walk. Guess I'll be heading back now. Catch you guys later then,"

"A'ight,"

"Take care, Makhamet,"

"It's Muhammad, you fucking _chibai_!" he gave a toothy grin as Clarke and Tyoma broke out into fits of laughter.

* * *

Back in the tent, Lara was in the midst of regaining her consciousness. It's all starting to come back to her now. _Gunfire_. _Screaming_ _. Bullets whizzing. An explosion. Inaudible voices._

"Mmfh," she moans as the pounding in her head intensifies. "Ugh, my head. Feels like it's been kicked by a horse,"

When she tried raising her hands to tuck away loose strands of her hair from her forehead, Lara discovers that she couldn't move them around for they were locked in place together. "What the hell?" Her expression transforms into one of horror as Lara realizes both her wrists have been cable tied to the leg of a large field table. She reacts almost immediately by struggling to get the bindings off albeit in vain. Lara also notices her right arm from shoulder to wrist was bandaged. Whoever patched her up was definitely had some first-aid expertise judging by how tight and neat the gauze was wrapped around her arm.

And then it hits her. Before she passed out. Someone needed her alive, said she'd be useful.

A smirk plays itself across her features. If these wankers think she'll help them get the _Gema O Diablos_ then they're in for a huge disappointment. The only thing she'll be assisting them with would be their destruction.

Alright so, quick assessment. They've taken her gear, her belt, everything, leaving absolutely no stone unturned. Not even the clothes on her back were spared.

That mini swiss knife she'd hidden within the seams of her pants was gone as well.

 _'And it was a such a great gift too,'_ she laments. _'Sam's gonna kill me if I don't get it back.'_

It was a memento of her and Sam's 2nd year anniversary together, shortly before all this...Trinity business. The nifty little gadget even came with a manicure file which made it all the more precious to her. So to recap, they've taken her gear including one cherishable item, bound her hands to a fucking table and the ones who strip-searched her probably enjoyed every fucking moment of it.

Her eyes narrow at that last thought, anger bubbling dangerously as it slowly rises from her chest. Lara's never felt so naked and violated before up until now. Even more reasons to hate Trinity. When she gets out of here, there'll be hell to pay. One could be damned sure of that.

Right, first things first she needs to set her priorities straight.

Getting herself free from these bonds would make a great start, the second would be to locate her gear and the third would be to give Trinity their comeuppance. While trying to free herself, Lara takes in her surroundings. She was in a giant tent with maps, reports, files yet nobody's home. This must be their central command.

Oh wait, hang on, she's not alone after all.

There was a man fast asleep at the end of the table she was cable-tied to. He wasn't in military gear, just plain khaki pants, and checkered shirt. Was he one of them? Or was he forcefully brought here against his will? If it was the former then she had a potential ally in her midst but if it was the latter then Trinity must have lost their marbles to have him so close to her with no security detail nearby.

Judging by how he wasn't in restraints and the fact that he has a drop-leg pistol holster on his thigh, the man before Lara has to be affliated with Trinity. Though it remains to be seen what was his connection to the organization and just how high up the proverbial food chain was he standing on.

Of course, this was all purely speculation, guesswork on her part if he really was with Trinity. _'Innocent until proven guilty'_ as the great Albus Dumbledore once said.

What? She absolutely adored the Harry Potter series, don't be judging her dear readers.

It got Lara through her teenage years, regaling her with tales of magic and adventures beyond and they're both British products so there's something she could fully connect with. In fact, she's spent most of her life surrounded by books and movies of fantasy and adventure.

Han Solo, Nathan Drake, Gandalf the Grey, these were her idols whose stories have kept her on the road in following her late father's footsteps.

Progress on those binds was coming along well, her knuckles were almost free. It won't be long now. Priority number two needed a little...reassessment; getting back her gear could come later. She needs to assess if the man sleeping before her was a threat. If he wasn't Trinity then Lara would have rescued a valuable ally who could provide a much deeper insight to Trinity's sinister plans and of the ruby they were both competing for. But if he was then this was too good an opportunity to pass up. She could silence their leader and sow chaos among their wretched ranks.

Without a leader, these people would probably pack up and go crying back to their masters with their tail 'tween their legs, plus, she'd have dealt another blow towards their 'inexhaustible' supply of assets. Then she could focus on the ruby without having to worry about armed thugs trying to kill her. Elementary.

 _'Just a little more,'_ Lara chews on her lips in anticipation of getting out of her restraints. _'Nearly there, comeoncomeoncome-'_

"Oh hey!" The enthusiastic voice jolts the young archaeologist out of her concentration. "You're up!"

 _'Really? Oh, come on, for fucks sakes!'_ screams Lara at the top of her inner voice and immediately stops what she was doing as the Trinity soldier came striding in and set his weapon down several feet away from her.

 _'Of course, there'd be a guard, damnit!'_ And to think this could have been an easy getaway.

"The medics say you hit your head real good trying to get out of the kill zone when the grenade went off. To be honest, I really wasn't expecting you to be up so soon but uh," he takes a pause, facing away, eyebrows pursed, deep in thought. And then he continues without missing a beat. "you seem to be doing alright." It took Lara a moment to realize the guard was rambling on more towards himself than actually conversing with her.

"Still," he turns to look at her and gave a grin which seemed too genuine and friendly for Lara's own liking. She prefers maintaining the status quo of seeing Trinity's soldiers as nothing more than faceless bad guys to dispatch than actual people. Makes them _easier_ to kill. "Better late than never I suppose."

"Yay," she cheers sarcastically, lips pulled into a wry smile.

"Ah-hah-hah-hah, fuck you." He then pulls up a bench and sits facing her from a few feet away and for a moment both sides took a silent pause to size each other up before the guard decides to look elsewhere.

He was shorter than most Trinity soldiers she's encountered (And bested), his faux-American accent stood out like a sore thumb. After spending a large chunk of her adult life traveling, Lara could easily distinguish between American and Britsh accents and this guy was no American. The way he cradles his rifle and the incessant tapping of his boot against the ground tells her he's bored. Probably itching for some action. Typical grunt.

Unfortunately, due to her current situation, taking him out would not be easy at all. As it stands, he has all the cards in his deck. In his hands was a high-powered rifle, plus, he had placed himself at a respectable distance between them, yet another tactical advantage in his favor. In layman terms, the bastard could shoot her if she so much as took a step forward.

"You ah, _ahem,_ " he frowns, unsure of how to proceed. "you put on quite a show out there last night," as the guard speaks, he whips out a six-inch blade to slice open a ration pack. His jittery movements and lack of eye contact were not lost on the young archaeologist. The guard was nervous.

"I aim to please," she smirks, trying to get under his skin. He opens his mouth to hiss out a retort but closes it and shakes his head with a sigh.

That knife in his hand was her ticket out of here. As does the rifle by his side, it would come in as an added bonus too. If Lara could bait him to get closer and do something foolish, like oh let's say hit her, or worse, grope her like the animal he probably was, she could counter-attack and neutralize him.

Lethally.

Getting hit was not an issue, she's taken plenty a slap and the occasional haymaker in this dangerous line of work.

"Quick question," she quips in her thick British accent while gently chewing at her bottom lip, to which the mercenary raises an eyebrow.

"Uh, sure. Go ahead."

"Just, how many of your friends out there did I kill, last night?"

" _Pfft,_ nice try," chuckles the mercenary but his face soon morphs into a cringe as he takes the first bite at the nutritious yet foul tasting slop. "Look, I know what you're trying to do and it's not gonna work. At least on me, that is."

Instead, she gives a wide smile that somehow didn't quite really meet her eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking-"

"Oh I'm sure you do Lara." he coos in a sing-song, causing her to flinch. She wasn't used to having the bad guys use her first name or speaking to her cordially for that matter. "I see you've been eyeing my knife." he puts the blade away. "You think what? I'm stupid is it?"

 _'There, a break in his accent. Can't tell where he's from yet. Maybe I should just ask- oh what the fuck Lara! Focus! First priority: escape!'_

"Well the ones who came before you certainly were," she says sweetly causing him to chuckle once more. _'This one's grown a brain cell. Time for plan B.'_

"Okay, you caught me. I really thought it'd turn out the way I'd imagined," She sighs, giving a defeated look yet her hands began to stealthily work their way out of their binds. It's nice and tight alright but she has to try. Nothing good would become of her fate if she stays in Trinity's hands and if anything, Lara refuses to believe in such archaic delusions.

 _'We make our own destiny. And I refuse to sit here and wait to die.'_

"Seriously?" he giggles. "What, did you think I'd get pissed off, lose my temper, try to hit you and somehow you flip the tables on me, kick my ass and you escape?"

"Something along those lines, yeah." she shrugs.

"This isn't fucking Hollywood, you know that right?"

"Worked for me a couple of times. Remind me to sue after I get out of this, yeah?"

He lets out a sigh. "You're really something else you know that, Lara?"

"I wasn't aware we were on a first name basis. In fact, I don't even know your name."

"Meh," he dismisses her statement with a wave of his hand. "You can call me Muzzie."

"Muzzie?" she giggles. "What kind of name is that?"

"I dunno, everyone calls me that. So it just kinda stuck I guess. And second of all, why shouldn't I call you Lara. That _is_ your name is it not?"

"Course it is but your people normally don't call me that. They've got more... _creative_ names for me," She ends that with a roll of her eyes.

"You mean like, bitch, cunt, fucking bitch, dirty fucking cunt, goddamn whore-"

"Don't push it." she hisses.

"Okay, okay." he raises his arms in mock surrender, a cheeky grin stretching across his face. "Just trying to improve my vocabulary is all,"

"God, you're annoying!" Lara takes a pause to shake her head. "Honestly, you're the first Trinity soldier I've met who's so..so... chatty."

"Thanks, I'll take that as a compliment. At least I'm keeping you entertained for the moment."

"Not in the least," she curses under her breath. "Aren't you military types supposed to act professionally? Isn't this, what do you call it-"

"Fraternising with the enemy? Pfft," he scoffs. "I am a professional in my job, make no mistake. But right now there's just the two of us here unless you count my boss, _botak_ over there," he nods his head to the sleeping form on the table.

"What?"

"Erm, _botak._ Baldy, sorry. Ah, his name's Pendanski but I call him _botak._ Don't tell him that. It'll be our little secret,"

She bit back a snort. Yeah, sure, whatever.

 _Wait,_ Pendanski? Isn't that one of the bad guys from that book _'Holes'_? Well, at least that's cleared the air about the mystery man's allegiance.

"But just to give you the benefit of the doubt," He leans forward while looking her straight in the eye with a serious expression, "You sent twelve people to an early grave." He shakes his head. "May Allah forgive them."

 _'Allah? wait, what-'_

"You're a muslim?"

"Yep."

"But...but-Trinity! Aren't they...and...and then-you-but-"

Her face was one of utter confusion, a look which Muhammad honestly found adorable as hell. It doesn't help that she's one of the most beautiful women he's laid eyes on. He could feel his nether regions _-No. Stop. Down, boy. Down. Down!_

"Look, its a long and complicated story, okay but long story short, Trinity needed men with military experience to fill in for security contractor roles so I applied, got myself shortlisted and well, here I am."

There was a tense awkward silence between them as the conversation was left hanging. But then, "You must be either really, really stupid or really desperate enough to throw your lot in with these wankers. Maybe even both."

Ouch.

"That's not very nice."

"So report me, I don't care. The truth hurts."

It was true, Muhammad needed money real bad which was why left his homeland in the first place. _Keep calm, don't let her get you all riled up. She's messing with you._

This wily she-Rambo's trying to mess with him; get inside his head, make him slip. Psych-warfare. "Stupid? No. Desperate? Maybe, I mean the hours are long and the living conditions," he takes a look around. "sucks ass but the pay's good-"

Lara cuts him off with a laugh. Muhammad didn't like the tone of that laughter. He's got enough EQ to recognize when someone's mocking him.

"You risk life and limb for something as petty as money?" her gaze hardens as her bright pair of almonds blaze against his dark browns. "You're pathetic! You're nothing more than Trinity's slave!" she finishes with a spit that struck him right in the face.

 _Gan Ni Na Pua Chi Bai!_

" _Fucking Chibai!"_ He shoots to his feet and stabs a finger at her. "You know what, bitch? _Fuck you_ , I'm done okay! I tried to be nice because I sympathize with the situation you're in, but it looks like you're just a cold-hearted, sarcastic, murdering whore. And don't talk to me about slavery or some fuck-shit. You're the one in captivity all fucking tied up while I'm out here," he gestures to himself, at the same time, wiping away the disgusting globule of saliva running down his cheek. "Free as a whistle."

Then he does something totally unexpected. The mercenary blows a raspberry.

 _'I've been policed by the village idiot.'_ she sighs.

"They put the new guy to watch over me. I feel insulted really. Three years of ruining Trinity's plans and these wankers put a boy-"

"The fuck!?" Muzzie explodes. "You fucking take that back!" he says while pointing an accusing finger at her once more.

A smirk tugs her lips open.

"Hey, hey, what-what is that? What are you smiling about?"

"Oh nothing, just mulling over the fact Trinity really must be desperate for bodies to throw at me if they've started recruiting the likes of you. I mean, child soldiers, really? That's low even for them."

"Child soldier?" He shoots to his feet with his rifle cradled dangerously in his hands.

 _'That's it, come closer.'_

" _Fuck. You._ I'm turning 24 this year, alright! Last I checked its been almost a decade since I hit puberty-"

Muhammad stops himself before he gave away too much...irrelevant information.

"Mhmm, cool story bruv." she dismisses him with a roll of her eyes. "Did you drop that lie on your recruiter as well?"

"What the fuck are you talking-"

"Speaking of which, kid, did dear mummy had to sign your waivers just so you could tag along?"

She cuts him off with a cheeky smile that was just begging to be pimp slapped right off.

"I...well...you..." he sputters, terribly roasted by Lara fucking Croft of all people. Muzzie gave a cry of frustration followed by a sigh before going back to wolfing down his MRE pack. For the next few minutes, they simply stared each other down in uncomfortable, palpable silence, until a nasty thought crossed his mind. He'd heard rumors over lunchbreak that Croft was orphaned from a young age, time to...kick the proverbial hornet's nest. Facing Lara once more, and this time with a toothy grin that could only spell bad news. Muhammad drops the bomb right up her face. "At least I still got a mom to give phonecalls to. The same can't be said for you."

 _Oh~ boy._

If looks could kill, Muhammad would have died probably a hundred times over. "You take that back." Her voice was low, barely controlled rage simmering beneath the surface just waiting to explode. Muzzie in a show of defiance simply turns his body to the side and laughs it off, trying to put up a strong front when in actual fact he was freaking out.

 _Uh-oh. Is she still looking?_

From the corner of his eye, he could see the prisoner literally _shaking_ with rage. If she wasn't tied down to the chair, well, there'd be nothing left of him to bury, probably. He gulps. Looking anywhere else but her direction, he lets out a snarky comment just to pretend he wasn't bothered by her rage. "Someone really oughtta teach you not to start something you can't finish,"

"Go to hell!" she snarls in reply, ending their conversation.

For the next hour, the two sat in palpable silence, stewing in their pent-up frustrations with neither sides even so much as batting an eyelash to the other.

It wasn't till Muhammad decides to quench his thirst that Lara spoke to him. After all that's said and done, getting him to share his water supply would be a longshot but she has to try.

Her chapped lips haven't tasted anything potable since what happened last night and this guy, for all his shortcomings and affiliations with Trinity, well he seems to be more cordial acting than the rest of them.

"Can I..." she pauses mid-sentence unsure of herself yet already grabbing the guard's attention.

"Eh?"

"Can I have some water?"

The guard, however, made no move to comply with her request.

"Please?" she tries once more.

He gently swishes the bottle around, the sound of sloshing water arousing Lara's parched lips and setting her throat on fire. "Ooh~" he calls to her in a sing-song voice, "lookey over here, see what I've got~"

"Does widdle Wawa-Cwoft wants some water?" he lets out a sharp bark of laughter.

She says nothing to that playful jab, only nodding furiously to quell that burning feeling of embarrassment and anger. Deep inside, Lara was wondering just how could she make his final moments as agonizing as possible.

 _'Death by fire? Or toxic gas? Decisions, decisions.'_

"The not-so-famous explorer Lara Croft asks for my help," the guard puts his hand to his chest in a ridiculous display of dramatics and overly exaggerated British accent. "Alas, she has hurt my feelings, oh bully!"

 _'Fire arrows it is,'_

"Fuck your feelings, seriously, a simple yes or no would have sufficed."

"It is as you've said, I am but a humble slave unworthy of offering you anything, not even sustenance." He continues spewing nonsensical drivel whilst taking small sips from the canteen.

"Would you cut it out? I said please didn't I?"

"Mmm..." he moans and then smacks his lips for added effect. "Nothing like a good swig of water to quench your thirst, wouldn't you agree?"

Her hands tremble as annoyance warps itself into mind-numbing rage.

"So good, mmf _,_ oh you want some?" he teases her by shaking said canteen left and right, the sound of sloshing water making Lara's throat burn even more.

"Fuck you!" she spits, her salvo stopping short a few feet away from the infuriating thug.

Most of Lara's enemies who knew of her fearsome reputation would have known better than to go messing around with her. Her rage gives her great powers, feeding her focus, clarity, and strength which she channels to full potential. Her anger, her rage has led her to achieve both amazing accomplishments as well as commit terrible acts of violence on more than one account. But more than that, it's kept her alive throughout these years in her war against Trinity.

But fuck it if it wasn't fun. It's like dangling a piece of meat on top of a leopard's cage with your bare hands. As it is, Muhammad was having a ball dishing out sweet payback. Tit-for-tat.

The look on her face as it burns from a tanned shade of peach to bright apple red was oh so priceless.

 _'And downright adorable. Not that I'll ever tell you, Croft.'_

"I'd love to share but what if you try to attack little ol' me?" he feints a whimper.

"Yeah? Well why don't you come closer and find out," she hisses venomously.

"Nah I'm good. Anyways this bottle seems to be," Muzzie sloshes it around some more. "Eh, I'd say half full. If you want this, you'll have to take back what you said."

"Take back wha- about what!?" she cries out exasperatedly. _'God, you're so annoying! Did your parents pour paint in your cereal?'_

"Oh, nothing much, just the things that you said about earlier on."

"What's the matter, big boy? Can't take a little heat?"

Anyone else would have hit her for such insolence. But not Muhammad. It takes a problem child to know another and knock em' down a few pegs.

"Do you want water or not?" he cocks his head sideways still grinning at her.

"Fine! I'm..." she looks away.

"Say it," he prods.

Lara opens her mouth to say something but found no words coming out.

"You got a cock in your throat or something? We don't have all day, Lara." he snickers wickedly.

 _'Wait till I get out of here. Oh, just you wait.'_

"I take back what I said." albeit halfheartedly and through gnashing teeth. "I'm sorry."

"See, it wasn't so hard now was it?"

She pictures killing him a dozen different ways in her mind.

"Anyways here, have fun!" He screws the cap on and throws the canteen at her without warning.

Was it any surprise she'd miss?

"You did that on purpose didn't you?" deadpans the mercenary, annoyed at her pathetic attempt to catch said canteen.

"My hands are tied to the table, shit-for-brains! Are you really that stupid to think I'd be able to catch it?"

"Oh yeah," he says while deep thought. "My bad. Alright, alright I'll hold the bottle up and you drink but!" he holds up a finger. "You're gonna have to promise me you won't try anything."

"Fine."

"Say it."

"What?"

"Say ' _I promise not to hurt you!"_

"I promise not to hurt you." she crosses her fingers. "Now hurry up and get over here,"

"Alright, but I got my eye on you." She rolls her eyes at that, no pun intended.

Poor Muzzie. So young, so naive.

He doesn't know that throughout the entire time they spoke, Lara has been quietly attempting to free her hands and has succeeded in doing so.

He doesn't know that it was all just an act for him to get within striking distance. Lara's plans for salvation came at the cost of silencing him.

Permanently.

"There, better?" Lara says nothing but continues to guzzle down the water canteen. "Oi, oi, slow down you're gonna-"

Too late. She hacks and heaves as water shoots out of her nostril and mouth.

"Oh my god! What the fuck! Ugh, I got some of it on my face!" wails Muhammad "And stop laughing, chibai! It's not funny!"

Lara couldn't help but laugh out loud at the guard wiping away at his face. It was too much, the look on his face, how he'd reacted. Priceless. Shame she has to kill him.

Instead of hitting her, however, Muhammad simply sighs and hands Lara some wet wipes he's got stored in his vest's utility pouch. He saves a few pieces for himself. As they cleaned themselves up, he poses a question that's been burning within for some time.

"Was it scary?"

"Was what scary?" a puzzled expression on her face.

"What I mean to say is that uh," this was indeed an extremely sensitive question to which most who've committed the deed would not be willing to share. "was it scary the first time you..." he finishes by running a thumb across his throat.

"Killed someone?"

"...yeah."

Silence.

"Okay yeah, that was kinda rude, sorry for asking. If you're uncomfortable then that's fine. You don't...don't need to-"

"It was," she nods, her voice barely a whisper. This time, the mercenary sits cross-legged right in front of Lara, eager to know more.

Lara doesn't make any attempt to scramble away as the merc invades her personal space, mainly because she needs him right where she wants him; within striking range.

She continues, her voice was hushed and solemn. "I remember my first kill and it was terrifying. The blood, the labored breaths he took as he clung onto the last vestiges of his life. That tortured look on his face."

She shakes her head before continuing. "After a while it just got easier, a stab through the heart, setting people on fire, snapping the neck, an arrow to the head." She shrugs, "It just got easier and easier until you find yourself desensitized to it all."

She sees the young guard before her turning a little shade of green. "You've never killed anyone yet before, haven't you?"

He somberly shakes his head.

"Death...it..its a natural part of life, but to...to bring death to someone else is...I dunno, Lara." he lets out a deep breath. "I just know that I might have to shoot someone someday and I don't think I can...I can..."

"Live with it?" she finishes what he was trying to say.

"...yeah." And then he looks up and sees Lara dabbing her face with those wet wipe he gave her.

It wasn't her wiping her face that made him freeze. It was the fact that her hands were free of their binds.

"What?" she cocks her head sideways. And then she realizes it as well.

 _'Oh-'_

 _'-fuck.'_

Both reacted at the same time but Lara was faster, having tangled in close combat plenty of times.

Her leg shoots out, sending poor Muhammad sprawling on the wet muddy ground with a severe case of nose bleed.

"Awfff, whattheffawkk!" he screams in pain as thick rivulets of blood, his blood came bursting out of his nose like a burst pipe.

Damn, she had one solid kick that's for sure.

Before Muhammad could even get his bearings right, something heavy straddles him, drives a knee to his body armor and a pair of hands wrapped themselves tightly 'round his neck.

It doesn't take a genius to guess who it was.

 _'Oh fuck how'd I miss this? She was playing me this whole time!'_ he screams within the depths of his mind as he thrashes about with his hands on her wrists, desperate to ease on the burning pressure tightening around his neck.

The body armor held off her knee from putting too much stress on his stomach but those hands need to be off his neck!

Muzzie's screams came out nothing more than a throaty rasp, her hands cutting off oxygen to his brain at an alarming rate.

"No..p..please...urkk!"

 _'Not like this! Not like this! I don't wanna die a virgin!'_

Her mud-caked hair slathering onto his face as she leans forward to apply even more pressure. Her eyes were narrowed, determined. The eyes of a stone cold killer.

 _'Get the fuck off!'_

"P...please...guys...he-help!"

She felt a little bad throttling him, he was one of them but he hasn't really hurt her or tried anything funny aside from vexing her. Yes, he was..irritating yet also, strangely patient and kind.

However, this was the price she was willing to pay to destroy Trinity. Anybody standing in her way were mere obstacles.

 _'An obstacle he's just an obstacle in the way_ ,' she tells herself that and repeats it over and over as she chokes the life out of him but she ended up doubting her resolve more and more.

Muzzie's weapon was rendered moot in this engagement, Muhammad needed to throw her off, get some distance between them and then dominate the situation in his favor. He wasn't allowed to use lethal force but that didn't mean he can't kick her ass.

She doesn't go for his gun, Lara Croft means to take him down nice and silent.

There was a self-defense technique he learned back in the Infantry which serves to break an opponent's hold over you if he tries to strangle you on the neck. Of course, Muzzie's never actually been in an actual fight to test its effectiveness.

 _'First time for everything, this better work, goddamnit!'_

His hands went for her thumbs and locked them in place. Why fight her entire arm when you could easily overwhelm the thumbs instead?

She yelps as he shifts his wrists sideways and immediately felt her thumbs stretch out of position, nerves screaming for her to get away from the hold he has on her hands.

 _'Yes!'_

As predicted she eases up on her grip around Muzzie's throat as a short yet sharp stinging pain shoots up both her hands.

Lara was definitely not expecting him to be well versed in pressure points. What precious few seconds Muhammad bought for himself was used to great effect as he savagely bashes his forehead upwards against her face.

To her credit, she doesn't cry out in pain.

This was a minor setback, Lara could handle a little pain but his ploy did succeed in throwing the cunning little minx off him thus buying him more time to prevent her escape. And prolonging his survival. He backs up a little and drops a firing stance with the SAR MMS up, safety off. "Hands in the air!"

He can't shoot her, not without proper authorization from Walter but he can apprehend this conniving bitch. Speaking of which, he sees his boss still out. "Goddamnit Walter, wake the fuck up!" he yells in frustration.

Movement from the corner of his eye.

"Get the fuck back!" he turns and shouts once more. "On your knees!"

Lara refuses to comply as the guard barks another command.

As the two opponents size each another up, a single drop of blood runs down the rim of Lara's nose towards her lips. Muzzie smiles.

Tit-for-tat.

"Guys! Croft is loose! I need help- guhk!" he'd barely managed to get the word out into the radio when Lara suddenly bum rushes him, throwing his aim off and battering his weapon aside. He counters with a hook but Lara ducks underneath and palm strikes him in the chin, sending his world spinning.

 _'Whoa, so this is what getting high feels like. No, no, focus!'_

There was no time to think, no strategy to plan out. Only survive long enough till backup arrives.

Muzzie throws a jab which easily catches her in the chin, his cross, however, wasn't on target as she tap blocks and counters with a flurry of hooks and uppercuts that overwhelms Muhammad, driving him back. His well-built physique doesn't faze her, she's taken down way bigger targets than him.

She had endurance and stamina on her side while he only had strength and his size to fall back on, not to mention his fighting techniques were...atrocious to say the least. His strikes had form and power yet they lacked precision and focus

He yells and swings a hook, Lara dodges then breaks into a roll right up behind him. A kick to the back of his leg knocks him down to a knee, swiftly bringing the fight into her favor. Lara growls and climbs atop his shoulders, wraps her thighs around his neck before swinging around with her entire body to pin him down in a deadly scissor lock.

Lara's history in acrobatics easily allowed her to pick up and execute the jiu-jitsu move with relative ease, in fact, it took her mere weeks to master even the most complicated of submission locks where for others it would take months.

All the more reason to not get into close combat with her unless you're absolutely positive you can take her.

But in this case, Muhammad had no choice but to fight, it was literally do-or-die.

 _'I got the call out, backup's coming. Just gotta hang in there.'_

But now it's all falling apart. Croft has him locked between her legs. All she has to do was to use her core muscles and severe the spinal cord at the base of his neck with a single powerful jerk.

In layman terms, she could snap his neck with her legs and end the fight.

Muzzie, on the other hand, had other things in mind. He won't go down without a fight, by God.

Lara really wasn't prepared for the Trinity goon to suddenly take a huge chunk out of her inner thighs.

"Agh!" Lara shrieks at the unexpected feeling of human teeth sinking deep into her thighs and latching on while his hands came up and punched her sides, causing more pain in a desperate bid to force her off but she held on to him in the scissor lock regardless.

Such a move if one would even call it that, was absolutely perverse and dishonorable but survival has its own rules. Lara Richard Croft of all people should know better.

In response she uses her fists to hammer down against the sides of his head, further causing him pain and distress.

 _'It's not working, I need to stand up and slam her down!'_

Like those MMA fights he's seen on youtube; whenever a fighter got headlocked he'd simply stand up and bash the motherfucker choking him hard into the ground.

Easier said that done. Lara was surprisingly heavy, how the fuck is she so heavy!?

Muhammad can't even get on his knees to stand with her weight adding on to his. Already his vision was starting to get a little hazy and an that familliar cold feeling was back, rapidly settling in his gut.

He collapses on the ground with Croft on top, legs still wrapped 'round his neck. Exhausted, weakened and unable to breathe, this was it. Not how he'd planned on going but alas, _'Every living being shall taste death.'_

He could only imagine the irony of being killed in the midst of so many friendlies bustling about just outside the tent. Well, at least let it be said for his eulogy that Muzzie went down fighting till his last breath. His thoughts drift back to his family back home. He couldn't fathom the heartbroken look of his parents and siblings upon recieving a letter from the 'company' notifying his untimely death.

Even worse, Muhammad's body won't be sent home to be properly buried. It would be a closed casket affair in his household while his body lay tossed in a ditch along with the other twelve who died the night before. His teammates wouldn't mourn him, that much he knew. They've seen far too many replacements come and go. Maybe a toast in his memory but that'd be it. And he doesn't even wanna think about the start of his time in the afterlife.

So many sins to answer for. Would the angels treat him with mercy? Or would they pummel him over and over for the sinner that he was till the End Of Days as written in the Book?

Croft was now cooing and shushing him. Probably trying to calm him down and make his final moments as gentle as she could. _'Nah, fuck that.'_

He uses what remaining strength he has to flip the bird up at her. If the situation wasn't so serious she'd actually crack a smile, he's a funny one alright.

Croft may win the battle but she'll lose the war. Any second now his guys are gonna show up and they're not going to leave anything up to chance. They'll put her down in a hail of bullet storm like the rabid animal she was.

Something metal and heavy clobbers the side of her head, knocking her out once more.

 _'Fucking hell, not again!'_ were her last thoughts before slipping back into a world of darkness.

Muzzie untangles himself from her legs and lay there pathetically, hacking and coughing. When his vision returns to normal he sees a bald, bearded guy in glasses and checkered shirt standing over at was Walter and he was wide awake. He extends a hand and promptly helps the newbie up on his feet before putting away the pistol back in its holster.

"When the Council advised me to carry a gun I was strongly against it." He starts. "Inelegant, obnoxiously loud and they give quite a terrible smell when fired. But now I'm starting to see the merits," he hums before going about the tent and stretching his legs.

Muhammad just stood there dumbfounded and hyperventilating. He nearly died not 10 seconds ago how would you feel if you were in his place?

"Sir I-"

"Save it," Walter raises a hand. "You were caught off guard. It couldn't be helped but next time you should really maintain a safer distance. You do know about the seven-meter rule right?"

"Yessir." he nods, deeply embarrassed. Then he realizes something amiss. "Wait, you were awake this whole time?"

Walter shakes his head. "I overheard laughter and saw you getting all chummy with our guest over here." he nudges her prone form with the tip of his boot. "Of course it wasn't till she began choking you out that I decided to act."

 _'*Nabeh chibai. This whole time he could've saved me the trouble of being choked out. *Gan Ni Na Pu Bor Kia!'_ But then again, _'Oh well, better late than never.'_

In that exact moment, the tent flaps burst wide open and nearly half a dozen armed guys came charging in. These were the guys from Tango 2, they were the Quick Reaction Force (QRF).

 _'Quick reaction my lanjiao, if it weren't for Pendanski I'd be worm food by now.'_

"Wot 'Appened?" asks their team leader, Logan in his thick Scottish accent as his team spread themselves around an unconscious Lara. "We 'eard ye over the radio, Mu'ammed, ye alright?"

"Bitch got free that's what happened." says the newbie angrily with his head tilted upwards and a wet wipe stuffed into his nose to stop the bleeding. "Caught me with my pants down and knocked the piss outta me."

"Christ, shifty little bugger." chuckles the Scot.

"Mohammed, I think you've done enough. Return to your team leader and take further instructions from him."

 _'Muhammad, ya done fucked up. Get the fuck out and fuck off back to 'Papa' Dean.'_

"Yessir," he sighs before grabbing is gear and quietly heads out, ashamed he got his ass kicked by a girl. In front of his boss, no less.

"Yeah, bye Muzzie."

"Seeya guys,"

"Take care lad,"

"Thanks, Bear, you too." Logan was like a demigod amongst men, like what the Greeks made Hercules out to be. The Scott was tall, big, buff and sported a large beard. Hence earning the nickname, _'Bear'_ from the guys. For Muhammad, Logan was the very definition of manliness the rookie merc' had been pining for throughout his entire adult life.

"Logan," says Walter. "Let's get some groundwork done. Wake her up,"

"Aye, with pleasure sir,"

As Muzzie leaves the tent, he hears the splash of water followed by a loud feminine gasp. He hears the taunts and laughter coming from Team 2. He hears her cries of pain as they beat her into a living pulp.

He stops and looks back into the tent, the men inside jeering and laughing as they took turns hurting her.

 _'Can't be helped, she's brought this on herself.'_

As he trudges back to regroup with the rest of Team 1, the pained screams emanating from Pendanski's tent hound his every step.

* * *

It was shortly after midday when the order came to gather up around the temple entrance. Operation Sweepstake was commencing in thirty minutes. Muzzie fell in step behind Tyoma as they made their way towards the giant hole.

Dean and the rest of the team were already there waiting for the Russian and the Singaporean to link up back to full strength. As they walk past Walter's tent, he sees Croft inside strapped down to a field chair with her head down. 2 of Logan's boys stood guard beside her on watch duty.

She looks worse for wear but somehow she still had his Goretex draped over her.

 _'Damn, they messed her up real good.'_

"Hey Muzzie, where are you going?" asks the Russian. He stops and turns, trying to think of an excuse. "To the tent, ah...I left something inside. You go on ahead, I'll catchup."

"Fuck that man, we gotta go!"

"5 minutes, I just need 5 minutes Artyom," says the newbie using the Russian' pet name.

"Fine but hurry up or you're gonna get skull-fucked."

"Just tell em I'm taking a piss or something."

" _Da, da_ , now hurry up!"

" _Spasiba_ , Tyoma!"

Nearing the tent, Muzzie immediately began having second thoughts. _'Oh, fuck me. This is a bad idea.'_ Before he could even enter, the guards block his path to send him away.

"C'mon Muzzie, you know the rules, no unauthorized personnel inside."

"I know, I know. I'm just here to..." his voice trails off as his gaze settles on Lara's broken form. "...to...uh...well,"

The lead guard, Hendricks glances at Croft before breaking into a knowing grin. "No need to explain bro, I know why you're here."

"You do?" he panics. ' _Oh shit, looks like I can forget about that performance bonus.'_

"Of course, man!" Hendricks slaps a hand on his shoulder. "You want some payback after she pulled that prison break shit on you."

"Uhm...yeah," Muhammad nods. "Been meaning to give her some after what she did. Fucking bitch." He cracks his knuckles.

"Hey no problem, I totally understand. Hell, I'd be fucking pissed too. Don't take too long! Ops Sweepstake's starting in three-zero mikes! We'll be right outside," he chuckles and nods his partner over to the entrance.

"Hey, hey, what the fuck Hendricks?" protests the second guard. "Walter said-"

"Walter ain't charge of the girl, alright Fitz? I am." chides Hendricks. "We'll be right outside anyways what are you so worried about?"

The second watchman, Fitz grumbles about Croft pulling off a second escape attempt as he makes his way out after Hendricks.

As soon as they were alone, Muzzie saunters up to Lara, stopping just shy of her broken form.

For a moment, neither of them spoke a word.

As the saying goes, ' _credit is where credit is due'_ and Croft was definitely deserving of it. Even in the face of adversity, her spirit remained steadfast and strong.

And then she looks up. Definitely seen better days.

Despite the bruises on her face, Lara glares defiantly back at him, her bright hazel orbs burning its way through his skull, challenging him to do his worst.

Muzzie lets out a deep breath. _'Where do I even begin?'_

"You fucked up big time, you know that right?" he backslings his carbine and squats until they were eye level.

She says nothing, her angry eyes doing the talking for her instead. He scoffs at the pathetic sight.

"You know Lara, once all this is done and we have the ruby, you're to be executed on sight. Pendanski's orders. He thinks you're too dangerous,"

He lets that piece of information sink into her skull before continuing. "Your corpse is to be brought back to be displayed in front of the High Council. Proof of the kill, or some shit, I dunno."

Lara simply gave a scoff in reply. So a Trinity agent wants her dead, what's new?

He recoils, slowly shaking his head. God have mercy, this woman's insane! He continues. "Before putting you down, Pendanski's gonna turn you over to Joshua and his boys. You burned half his team to death, d'ya know that? One of their own, Lang, He survived but he didn't make it past the night. I heard them planning to make you suffer real slowly for that and for all those good men you wasted last night."

At the mention of the word _good_ Lara broke into fits of pained laughter.

"What's so funny?" he crosses his arms with a frown.

Throughout her entire confrontation with Trinity, there hasn't been and probably never will be a Trinity member noteworthy to be judged as _good_ in her books.

Orchestrating wars and tragedies throughout the world from the shadows. Manipulating, murdering, plotting and conspiring to enslave and remake mankind in their image. Nothing more than a hidden cancer. A dark stain from ancient times that's managed to survive into this century.

Their hired guns were no different, including this one before her. He may be new but it won't be long before he gets with the program; To murder. To loot. To rape. To destroy.

Anything to please their sadistic masters who sign their paychecks each month.

"Those bastards outside whom you work with?" She snorts, "Oh please, they're anything but good people."

"Why so?" Muzzie crosses his arms, a frown on his face.

"Let's see," she chews on her lips. "They kill people for money, hardly the paragon example of a decent human being now wouldn't you agree?"

"You're one to talk to about killing," he stabs an accusing finger at her. "D'you have any idea just how many lives have you ended as of this moment? Hmm?"

She grew silent at that. She'd stopped keeping track, mainly because it made her feel sick. Her last count was 45 and that was almost _5 years ago_ on Yamatai. Lord knows how many people she's killed over the years just to stay alive. But she doesn't regret an ounce in taking their lives. Yes, they were people too, could there have been a better way instead of resorting to killing? Perhaps. Yes it made her feel disgusted but all of those deaths were warranted.

"What's the matter? Why the silence? You wanna know something? You're nothing more than a fucking self-righteous hypocrite-"

"How dare you!" She snarls, all fire and wrath. "How fucking dare you judge me! Those people were monsters. I've done the world a favor by getting rid of them. Don't you ever presume to know anything about me, you bastard!"

"Eh fuck you, understand! I fucking dare to and you wanna know why? Because a couple of hours ago, you were trying to kill me! Hell, I treated you well! I treated you like another human being! Did that not mean anything to you?"

"You pissed me off."

"Oh, I pissed you off? When it was _you_ who started it in the fucking first place?" His voice rose a few octaves. Seeing as Lara didn't respond to his accusation, Muhammad continues his tirade. "You were the one who started these...these mind games to fuck with my head. You wanted me to get close to the point of physical contact so you could try to overpower me and free yourself. Tell me if I'm wrong?"

She looks away. He's right. About everything so far.

"I treated you like a human being. You think the others here would have done the same?"

No response.

"Eh answer la, I talking to the wall is it?"

She shakes her head, eyes glued to the floor.

" _Chao Chibai_ , I treated you nicely. I gave you water and you repaid me by - _aiya,_ fuck this la, you know what?" he shakes his head, a loud sigh escaping his chest. "I have a feeling this will get us nowhere. I didn't come all the way here to gloat or launch myself into an angry-"

"No," she cuts him off. "You're here to beat the living shit out of me. I heard your conversation with those two twatheads."

"Well if that's what you think." he shrugs.

"Just get it over with!" she snaps and looks away, steeling herself for another round of beating. Any moment now a fist was going to come crashing into her.

She gasps as a soft wet wipe began dabbing gently against her face. Turning back, she sees the hired gun slowly wiping away flaky bits of dried blood and mud off her cheek.

"What are you-"

"Shh, don't move." he clicks his tongue as he took away more dried blood on her forehead before rubbing the wipe down the sides of her jawline. "I lied to them." he says quietly as he continues with his work. "I saw you banged up, looking like shit and well, I felt really bad for you. Even though you fucked up and tried to kill me. People say I'm too nice, perhaps that is my weakness. Maybe that explains why I'm here, cleaning you up."

"Could you blame me? I wasn't going to sit there and wait to be slaughtered. And I certainly don't need your pity," she hisses in pain as he dabs a sensitive spot.

"Shit, sorry." He made light taps on said spot instead. "Better?"

She nods.

"Anyways, back to what you were saying. I'm not giving you pity, dumb ass. I'm giving you help."

"If you want to help then let me go,"

"Let you go, are you crazy?" he chuckles as he takes out another fresh piece. "If I let you go you'll just go back to being a nuisance to my bosses and killing my co-workers. Can't have you doing that."

"Please, you don't understand. Trinity has to be stopped. You're new to all of this. It's still not too late to walk away." she pleads.

"Walk away? When I'm bonded to a legal contract? The fuck you've been smoking, Lara?" he sighs as he began working on her neck. "Tilt your head up,"

She does and he worked his way from below the chin down to her collarbone. "And we're done. Nice." He tosses the wipe away. "Look, I believe in the cause Trinity's trying to do. They're trying to make things better for all of us. Sometimes, you gotta make the hard choices if it means the best for everyone else you know? I thought you of all people should know that."

"But not at the cost of manipulating and murdering hundreds of innocent people! I've seen what your people are capable of. What they can and are willing to do. They're not going to stop-"

"Hey, Muzzie!" Hendricks shout from the tent's open flap. "Ya done in there?"

"Yeah, come on in!" Looking back towards Lara he sighs and shakes his head. "Wish I could have met you under different circumstances. All the best for what lies ahead. By the way, can I have my jacket back?"

"This is yours?" She asks, shimmying her body sideways and letting the jacket fall off.

"Yeah, you were shivering from the rain last night so I put it on you. I'm surprised you're still wearing this." He rolls the jacket up before stuffing it into a pouch.

"That's..." Lara opens her mouth to say something but found she couldn't.

 _'Really kind of you.'_

At that moment Hendricks and Fitz came swaggering in. Muzzie gently grabs Lara by the hair but made no effort to yank on it, he simply needed to make it look like he was hurting her and yells at the top of his voice, "Fuck you and everyone who lives in your house!" before letting go. Croft went back to keeping her head low lest they see her wounds all cleaned up.

"Whoa, chill man." Fitz says as he sees the way Muhammad grabs her hair and screams in her face. "You good?"

Letting out an exhale, Muzzie nods. "Yeah, feels real good lettin' it all out. Know what I'm saying?" he gave both the guards a handshake.

"Ditto to that brother," grins Hendricks. "Anyways, we've got orders to bring Croft to the entrance as well."

"She coming along?"

"Yep,"

"Seriously? Dude, she's a walking disaster waiting to happen!"

"Don't need to tell me twice but orders are orders."

"Fuck, know what, I gotta run, Dean's gonna bust my nuts."

"A'ight, you take care now." smiles Hendricks as he and his partner began forcefully hauling Lara to her feet.

Team 1 was in the midst of going through their last-minute equipment check when Muhammad finally rejoins them.

"Nice of you to join us, cheese dick. Where have you been?" grunts Dean as he slams a fresh clip home into his VICAR MK II assault rifle.

"Didn't Artyom tell you?" he nods over to the Russian counting the number of spare mags for his AKM.

"He did but he didn't say you'd take 15 goddamn minutes to take a piss. Tell me the truth, Muzzie."

"I went for a smoke afterward, Dean. I fucked up, I know. Won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't and next time," Dean taps his watch. "Try to keep track of time before wandering off like an asshole. Got it?"

"Got it,"

"Alright, equipment check and sound off if anything's missing. Briefing's starting soon."

While going through his kit, Muzzie sees Croft being led towards Walter Pendanski flanked by Hendricks and Fitz. She turns her head and for a moment their eyes locked if only for a short, sharp second before she turns away.

With a sigh, Muhammad continues taking stock of his ammo, food and water count.

Meanwhile, Dean stands behind him wondering what just happened. No doubt Muzzie's made some sort of connection with Croft but what? This will require further investigation.

He'll get to the bottom of this.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **Well, that's the end of the chapter. This has been re-edited as of 05/10/2018. Hope you enjoyed it and if you did, like, follow and review. Heck, drop a PM! I'll respond to it as soon as I can :)**

 **Glossary:**

 **Nabeh chibai = Motherfucker in Hokkien**

 **Gan Ni Na Pu Bor Kia = Fuck your mother you useless child in Hokkien**

 **Lanjiao = Penis / Bullshit in Hokkien**

 **Spasiba = Thanks in Russian**

 **Sukka = Bitch in Russian**


	5. Nut Up Or Shut Up

**Summary:**

 **With Operation Sweepstake kicking into effect, an unwilling Lara Croft is swept along with Trinity's expedition team as they prepare to descend into the deep dark of the ancient temple.**

 **What horrors will they uncover?**

 **Re-edited: 22/09/2019**

* * *

"Okay people," Walter calls out to the clustered ensemble of hired muscle and initiated alike as he stood at the foot of the tunnel's entrance. Unfortunately most of the crew were engaged in their own conversations. "Settle down, settle down!"

The air was thick with excitement.

Despite the hardships and setbacks they've encountered, it was almost over. The light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.

In 72 hours, everyone would have enjoyed their well deserved 'RnR' in Rio and all aboard the flight back home, five figures richer. Everyone except for Croft and the casualties that is.

Top wants her corpse and they shall have it.

Twelve guys for the woman with a reputation for not staying dead. Twelve lives traded for the bitch who had single-handedly defeated an entire Trinity strike force.

Acceptable losses.

Team leaders could be heard cursing and swearing up and down the line just to get the men in order. Finally after what seemed like forever, a hushed silence fell over the campsite as combatants, non-combatants as well as their 'honored guest' lent a listening ear to the overall in charge, Dr Walter Pendanski.

"Gentlemen, the moment that we have all been waiting for has arrived. But before I move on," he raises a finger. "we need to address the elephant in the room."

Muhammad lets out a defeated sigh and sags his shoulders, oh what now? Haven't they done enough already? God, everything's falling apart here.

 _'Walaowei, I just wanna go home la~'_

"Garett," Walter points out to a random gunman who immediately began raising his hands in mock surrender as if to say _'Whatever it is, it wasn't me I swear!'_

If her situation wasn't as bad as it is, Lara probably might have joined in with the laughter as well. Looks like Trinity does have a lighter side than she'd have expected.

"Happy birthday."

Poor Garett found himself getting swarmed by dozens of cheering colleagues. A few of the wild ones tackled him down and began punching, elbowing and kicking into the poor sod all the while singing 'Happy Birthday'.

 _'Ugh, men.'_ Lara shakes her head. _'Put them together in numbers and they start acting immature. Its a wonder how they've ever gotten things done.'_

The mercenary whom Lara now knew as Garett simply laughs it off, "When we get our asses to Rio, drinks on me boys!" followed by more cheering and horseplay.

"Don't forget the orange juice for Muzzie now!" someone from the back row called out and the men roared together in laughter.

"Fuck off!" Muhammad giggles, middle finger high in the air and a wide smile on his face as those around him playfully ruffle his jungle hat. It was shortly after getting transferred into this outfit that Muhammad tagged along with his new workmates to an underground pool party, courtesy of Tyoma and his innumerable contacts.

Unable to participate in most of the activities over religious issues, poor Muzzie ended up looking after their belongings with a cold glass of orange juice in hand as the men got pissed drunk and partied hard with the ladies. Needless to say, Muhammad was pretty miffed about the whole setup.

"Okay, okay, focus people." huffs Pendanski. "We still got to find the ruby, come on now."

The murmurings began to die down.

"It has now come to this, months and months of preparation and we are but one final effort away from bringing about a radical change for the betterment of humankind."

 _'More like enslavement.'_ Lara rolls her eyes as she stood behind him. God, these people can't be this gullible now, can they?

"After tonight, we no longer have to contend with the test of 'Time' because the immaterial would have become...immaterial." At that, several of the men exchanged puzzled looks.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Muzzie looks to Dean for answers. The only response he got was a grunt and shrug.

"The fuck is he on about?" whispers someone behind Muhammad.

"Fucked if I know," says his partner.

"Ah sir?" a man from the front ranks waves his hand. Walter lets out a sigh, can't these imbeciles at least wait for him to finish what he has to say before asking questions?

"Yes Callum what is it?"

"Ah, pardon me for asking sir but could you kinda...explain what you just said cos' me and my boys ain't got no clue about what you just said."

Several murmurings from the men broke out in agreement over Callum's question.

The Trinity agent curses under his breath.

 _Simpletons._

"What I meant was that the ruby would have given us the power over time. Once we have fully harnessed its energy we can lead humanity into a brave new world, one where we can never age. Where we can be timeless. Immortal." The men began nodding, finally understanding. "Does that answer your question?"

"Yes sir." answers the mercenary sheepishly.

Muzzie quietly shakes his head. This goes against everything his religion stood for. To entrust one's salvation in another entity or authority other than the Creator is blasphemy. High treason. The worst crime a servant could commit against its master.

True, Muzzie may not be the most upstanding Muslim there is but he does try to keep to the teachings of the Mosque, difficult as it is right now. _'Ahh, that murderous lust for power, that's so human of us. Classic humanity.'_

 _'So this is what Trinity's planning to do with the ruby?'_ Lara purses her lips. _'Another cheap shot at immortality? Why am I not surprised?'_

Someone else raises their hand. Walter lets out a slow exhale. _'Be calm now, think of your blood pressure.'_

"Will we get to be immortal too?"

"In time, yes, once we've successfully harnessed its energy."

"Sweet, fucking awesome!" whoops the mercenary, like a kid with a candybar.

Muzzie knew better than to believe in that. As God speaks in the Quran, 'Every _Soul shall taste death.'_ This was the promise between the Creator and all of His creations; mankind included. No fancy works of science could ever give them the power to control that which was purposely kept out of reach from the children of Adam.

Then again he's just the help, the hired muscle, the _peon_. His superiors couldn't care less even if he had objected to their ludicrous scheme with a thumb up his crack. If they say they're out doing God's dirty work then so be it.

"This job is really testing my faith," he sighs.

"You can't do this!" Lara cries out all of a sudden. Everyone began turning their heads at the little naysayer.

"Exploiting the ruby's power would bring about more harm than good." Even with her hands bound and sporting a dozen different bruises on her, Lara stands strong in her beliefs.

"Its power is not meant for the world!" the young adventurer cries out, regurgitating the same line she used against Ana back in Kitezh hoping to get through to these people. "What you're planning is going to upset the natural order-"

"Will someone shut her up, please?" Walter cries out exasperatedly. Hendricks strode up to her and with one fluid motion, socks Lara hard in the face. "Thank you."

 _'Ooh, that's gonna leave a mark. For God's sake have some humility Croft, it'll save your life.'_ Muhammad shakes his head.

"Here's your natural order, right up in your face!" Hendricks grins then gave a kick that sent her spiraling across the semi-moist, germ-infested forest floor.

Some of the men guffawed at the sight. Good, let the murdering bitch feel it.

Fitz came over, stood her up and proceeded to gag her with a duct tape he'd borrowed from one of the engineers the other day.

With that out of the way, another contractor from the back shouts out his question. "What about cancer?"

"What about cancer?" repeats Walter, his patience growing thin at the staggering amount of idiots in his midst.

The same voice shouts out. "Well, like, uh, what about the ones with cancer? Once we're immortal does that mean those with cancer are gonna keep suffering forever? We can't die technically-"

"How about we get to the ruby first and then we can talk about curing cancer, does that sound like a plan?," interrupts Walter impatiently. The merc' nods but one could tell he looked disappointed at being shot down.

"As of this moment at," Pendanski looks to his watch, "Thirteen-forty-three (13:43) local time, Operation Sweepstake has officially commenced." he says as he overlooks down on them from the top of a boulder, giving off an authoritative vibe.

"We'll be doing this by the numbers. Tango 1," At the mention of their team, Muhammad lets out a groan. Tango 1, always _fucking_ Tango 1 with the heavy-lifting.

 _'They call us Tango 1 for a reason, what'd you expect?'_ He huffs.

"Cheer up, amigo," Manuela playfully punches him in the shoulder. "We the first in, we the first out, ain't all there is to it, know what I'm sayin' bro?"

"No...not really."

"Aha! My man!" the taller man slaps a hand at the back of the newbie. ' _Ow.'_

Back to the still-ongoing briefing, "-the staging area. Signal the clear and I'll dispatch Tangos 2 and 3 to punch right on through towards the heart of the temple. Inside, there are key sectors I want each team to hold. Your Team leaders have been briefed which sectors they will be holding so any queries you have, take it up with them. Understood?"

A low chorus of _'Yessirs'_ and _'Rogers'_ resonate around him.

Behind him stood his flock; archaeologists brimming with newfound excitement and energy. They've barely scratched the surface studying the temple yet what they've discovered so far could very well rewrite man's understanding of South American history!

The indigenous tribe who walked these lands; the Timambura as they were called, appear to be monotheists. The first of their kind ever recorded to worship a single deity. Further research shows no mention of the olden Gods worshiped by the native tribes in the region. These people only gave reverence towards their deity which they call the 'Great Spirit'. Their culture and language similar as it is with the other peoples also do not have any mention of sacrifices, human or otherwise.

As of right now the temple heads eagerly await their gun-toting co-workers to make safe the temple before continuing with their research.

This was history in the making, never mind the treasure that lay within. To be the first within the archaeological field to make such a discovery and claim the finds for themselves was enough reward as it is.

Leave the magicky mumbo-jumbo to the Council.

As it is, the archaeologists giddily step aside as Tango 1 shoved past towards the pulley system that will take them down into the deep.

Standing over the makeshift elevator, Muhammad could be heard sucking in slow and deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down.

"You alright, Mo-mo?" whispers Clarke as he flicks the safety on and off his M-4, a habit he's picked up from the newbie when anticipating danger over the horizon.

"Yeah, I'm good to go." he gives a weak smile and a thumbs up to go with.

"Stick with me, newb. You watch my back. I'll watch yours."

"Sure, can do."

"Stand by!" yells an engineer as he and his crew began hand cranking the lift down.

There was a jerk followed by a mechanical creak as the gears began shifting and turning. Pretty soon the makeshift elevator found itself being lowered deeper and deeper below.

"Here we go," murmurs Clarke as he gave a sniff.

"Into the belly of the beast," says Dean.

"More like _up_ the demon's ass, eh _Jefe_?" chuckles Manuela in reaction to his Team Leader's words.

"Nahnahnahnah see, we're going down, bro." chides Clarke as he gestures to the floor with his index finger. "I figure going right down the demon's throat would be more apt,"

"Semantics, hombre, fucking semantics."

"Alright, ears open, mouths shut." The team fell silent as Dean slips into the grizzled team leader persona.

"Once we're down, secure the area and form a perimeter. Stay alert and do not touch anything. Capische?" rumbles their team leader. "That goes especially for you, newb."

"Whaaat?" recoils the newbie, offended over that statement. "Why me?"

"Because, you can't seem to keep your hands to yourself. That Jenga exhibition down in San Diego we visited last month, remember that shit?" 'Papa' Dean crosses his arms and narrows his eyes.

 _A memory flashback occurs of which we see Muhammad getting hauled away by security after unwittingly causing one of the largest Jenga towers on display to collapse all because he tried to push in a piece that looked out of place. Behind the commotion stood Dean and Manuela, palms on their forehead and defeated looks on their faces._

"Well...yeah, but it was a one time thing!"

"Mhmm, and that one time in fucking Thailand." supplies Tyoma with a glare.

"That doesn't count!"

"You caused a fucking blackout in the entire town!"

 _This time we see Muhammad mobbed by both angry locals and tourists for causing a power outage in the Artbox Night Market. The reason? He wanted to find out what happens if you press that obscure looking green button on the wall with wires snaking all around it._

"Yeah, and that time you-"

"Alright, alright I get it! Don't touch anything. Ugh, _Chao Chibai_ you all."

"You do realize that none of us understand that Chinese shit you keep yelling right _ese_?"

"Just...fuck off, Manuela."

Muhammad hated a great many things. He hated the dark and he hated heights, though 'fear' is a better word to describe his bitterness towards the two.

Just his luck he was stuck in a combination between the two. He did not like the idea of being suspended over a large wooden pallet supported by ropes that could snap anytime soon but so far so good and by _good_ he meant they weren't tumbling down towards their doom.

Yet.

" _Bilyad_ , its dark!" curses Tyoma as his team drops into a high kneel position.

"Shut the fuck up!" hisses their team leader.

A second jerk lets the mercenaries know they've safely reached their destination. Touchdown at last, Muhammad heaves a sigh of relief.

"Lights!" growls Dean. Beams of light stab out of their rifle attachments, spearing through large swathes of darkness and illuminating the wide open expanse of the temple entrance.

Like clockwork, the team split off on high alert and positioned themselves to cover the staging area. One of the first things that Muhammad notices was the smell. He had expected it to smell like shit considering that god-awful, putrid gust of wind that greeted them last night but no, this was different. The place smells like wet grass and something else, something foreign.

Sniffing the odor wafting in the dusty stale air, Muzzie looks to his team. "You guys smell that?"

"Ugh, smells like your momma's apartment, 'Ela."

"Yeah good for you Manny, you should feel right at home then."

That bought out a round of snickers from the guys, Manuela turns and smacks two fingers across Clarke's forehead. _THWACK!_

"Agh! Fuckin' Spic!"

The whole place was damp, not to mention freaking dark.

"AHCHOO!"

And dusty too. The faster they grab the ruby, the faster they can fuck off outta here.

"Mierda," Manuela curses as he wipes his nose.

"Bless you." grunts his team leader in amusement as he scans the area for potential threats.

"Jesus, you okay?" Tyoma pats the Mexican's back.

"M'fine," says Manuela with a sniff. "Lets just get this over and done with,"

"Team, perimeter secure?" Dean calls out, fingers casually drumming over the push-to-talk button of his Comtac, ready to give Walter an update.

"1-2, okay."

"1-3 okay."

Clicking open the channel, Dean relays the message to those waiting up top. "0-0, this is Tango 1 Actual. Perimeter secure, over."

"Roger that, 1 Actual. Deploying Tango 2 now, ETA 3-0 mikes, just sit tight over."

"Tango 1 Actual, roger that. Out." turning back to his boys scattered around the entrance, he says. "Alright you heard the man, get comfortable because we are gonna be stuck here for awhile."

"Huh, they're payin' I ain't complainin' boss." shrugs the Mexican as he lights up a cigarette.

It took fifteen minutes to bring the elevator back up and another fifteen to dispatch the next wave. In that time, Muhammad had drained nearly half of his canteen, smoked 2 sticks, munched on a protein bar and was in the process of unwrapping another when Tango 2 finally showed up in force. They brought these long metal poles with large LED lamps attached to serve as floodlights.

Upon arrival they too set off in covering the staging area, filling up spaces that haven't been covered by the first team.

"Yew lot, I want a tight spread around Tango 1. Meuv." says Logan, the Scot in charge of Tango 2. His men did so with immediate haste, not wanting to risk the wrath of their hot-blooded team leader. Fear could be a good motivator sometimes.

"Geez, took you long enough, Logan." smiles Dean as they shook hands.

"Ah piss off, mate. Elevator took a 'focking long time." Sparing a glance around, the Scot spat to the floor. "Christ its dark,"

"Yeah, hey listen, is it alright if your boys leave a couple of those lights here? They'll sure come in handy lighting up this goddamn hole."

"Sure, 'Ah daen't see why not. Callum, Woods!" The large Scot calls 2 of his fellows over. "Ditch your lights 'ere, let Dean's boys 'ave at 'em."

Turning around facing his team, Dean motions them to come forward. "What? So I gotta fix these lights up for you? Want some fucking coffee and breakfast in bed to go with?"

"Hey, that ain't such a bad idea boss," Clarke shrugs with a playful smile.

"Get over here, assholes!"

Manuela and Tyoma set one light pole up while Muzzie and Clarke took care of the other one. "Much better," says Dean, admiring his men's handiwork. The staging area was now lit up proper by the floodlights they'd set up.

Walter and Croft came in with Joshua's boys. Looks like they've torn away the duct tape from her mouth but her hands were still bound. Upon seeing her, Muzzie's face darkens. Having her around would greatly complicate things.

After her stint with him back in the tent, Muzzie knew better now. Beneath that hapless, hazel-eyed beauty was a cold-blooded predator just waiting to pounce. She's simply biding her time, Muzzie was sure of it. Riding along with the expedition until the opportune moment presents itself for her to escape and kill them all.

"Its a bad idea having her tag along," he whispers to Clarke as they kept watch over the new arrivals. "She's a ticking time bomb that's what she is."

"I know, brother but there ain't nothing we can do about it. Walter really oughta let Joshua put her down when he had her." says the ex-Marine quietly. Muhammad found himself agreeing to that.

For what seems to be the third time today, their gazes met and held for but a split second before Lara turns her head away. Her face was set in a neutral expression, revealing nothing to her captors.

But Muzzie was not buying it. Within the depths of her mind, there were gears and wheels turning with a cunning intelligence to boot.

Joshua's team stood by the entrance, ready to move in and push ahead of Logan's boys once the order was given. They stood there, occasionally giving their prisoner the red-eye before going back to admiring the shitty surroundings. Looks like feelings from last night were still raw and hurting.

Muzzie can't blame em, hell, he'd want to be avenged too if he died being set on fire or something. He sees Dean and Walter walking away from the main body, quietly speaking in hushed tongues.

"Dude, check it out."

"Leave it, man, that's none of our business."

"Okay," a frown on his face, what was Clarke so afraid of? He could tell the American sounded nervous seeing the two Deacons conversing in such a hush-hush manner.

"-a call from the High Council. They've decided to go forward with Doctor Dominguez's plans."

"What!?" Dean hisses, "Now? What the hell is their malfunction?"

"Not my call to make."

"Well I don't like it, its too early."

"I feel the same way however, this is beyond my control. I'm leaving this operation in your hands." sighs Walter, obviously unhappy about being pulled out right at the crux of this important expedition. "I've been recalled along with my team to join Dominguez in Mexico. Oh, and Rourke will be there too."

"Really? Rourke was a student of mine when I was down in Intelligence. How is he?"

The last time he saw Rourke, the man was but an aspiring initiate. Cunning, ruthless and methodical, the man had qualities that would undoubtedly see him progress far within the ranks of Trinity's agents.

"He's made Commander now. And is currently the Security Advisor for Dominguez's operations."

"That's great to hear, sir. If you happen to see Rourke, tell him his old mentor sends his regards."

"That I will, Agent Morowitz."

"It's just Dean now sir."

"Too right it is. A shame you left the shadows behind just to be on the frontlines."

"I serve the Order, wherever I may be, sir."

Agent Pendanski gave a sad smile. "No truer words spoken. _Ordo in Gloria_ , Agent."

" _Et sic non-erit et aeternum_ ," replies the ex-assassin as he bids farewell to the expedition leader.

Muzzie notices Walter making for the elevator, "Wha-what's going on? He ain't coming?"

Clarke shrugs. "Dunno, something big back at home must'a come up I guess. Got a bad feeling 'bout this."

Dean went ahead and spoke with Joshua. Whatever it is they had going on has got him surprised and kinda pissed off. Once they were done, they split off back to their respective teams.

"The fuck's going on boss?" voices Manuela.

"Shit's way above your paygrade. Just shut up, grab your gear and follow me," says Dean as he gives the hand signal to gather around.

As Tango 3 began moving further in, shoving Croft along the narrow corridors, Dean lays down the situation before them.

"Slight change of plans. Due to unforeseen circumstances, Walter's put me in charge." before any of them could so much as open their mouths to ask a question, he quickly cuts them off. "Don't ask why, you're not paid to ask questions. We are still going ahead to hold our sectors, however, because of my new appointment I'll be moving around coordinating with the other Team Leaders which also means, I'm putting Clarke in charge of you boys till this whole thing blows over."

"Wait, why is he in charge?" Asks a sour-faced Tyoma.

"Because I can count on him to get the job done. The same can't be said for the rest of you cheese dicks. And he's been with the Company for over half a decade so that grants him seniority over you three." That shut the Russian up.

The ex-Marine in question simply shrugs, no biggie. He's played leadership before. In late November, '04 back in Fallujah, Iraq, his squad leader took some shrapnel which removed the upper portion of his face. It was up to him to lead his boys out of that fuck-up of a firefight. Compared to this, this was child's play.

Handing Clarke a piece of paper, Dean instructs him where to position the men once they were deeper inside the temple. Tyoma took point, leading them past Logan and Joshua's team.

"How much further, man? We've been walking for almost an hour," whines Muhammad. None of his teammates would give him the satisfaction of a rebuttal. They too were starting to get mighty sick and tired of humping around in this fucking temple.

After what seemed like forever, they arrived into some kind of chamber, Once they've ditched their heavy packs, Clarke began splitting them into pairs and deploying them to secure the chamber.

Muhammad's no archaeologist or whatever fuck-ologist out there, but whoever built this place definitely had the theme of _'Stay Away'_ in mind. As mentioned before, its dark, damp, dusty and outright creepy as hell. Hell, there's even some dead language inscribed all over the walls and the ceilings.

 _'And who the flying fuck would build a place of worship a hundred feet below ground? These guys obviously. Fucking savages.'_

Setting down the SAR against a wall, he began lighting up a stick. Nicotine calms the nerves, see and it looks like his comrades shared the same idea.

As he sucks in hard, the light from his cigarette faintly reveals a perfectly cut out hole in one of the stony walls. Said hole took on the shape of a tiny square no bigger than the size of his fingernail. It was perfectly edged. Too precise to be considered a natural formation.

Curiosity got the best him; this warrants investigation. Muzzie turns to the rest of the guys, all of whom were busy minding their own business.

 _'Just gonna take a closer look,_ ' hums the newbie as the warnings given by 'Papa' Dean earlier that day went straight down the proverbial toilet.

As he came closer to inspect said hole, one of the tiles he'd stepped on quietly sank deeper into the ground.

The neatly cut out hole silently nocks in an arrow, thanks to a complex system of gears and ropes the natives had devised in dealing with intruders. The little hole was now poised to fire its lethal missile right into the approaching fool.

And that fool was none other than Muhammad.

" _Oof_!"

In a stroke of luck, good or bad, however, you wish to see it, the new guy trips on a stone and was sent face first onto the cold, algae-infested floor right as a miniature sized arrow whizzed past. It would have struck Muzzie in the face had he been standing not 2 seconds ago. With a loud thud, the little arrow embeds itself deep into one of the pillars, jolting Tango 1 into action.

"What the fuck!"

"Holy shit, did you see that!"

"It's a fucking arrow man, what the fuck?"

Muhammad's team sprang to their feet and quickly sat his hyperventilating form up.

"You're alright, boot! Just breathe! Breath, alright?"

"Goddamn it, I knew something like this was gonna happen!"

"Just shut up and chill alright! Tyoma, he good?"

Tyoma began patting the gasping newbie down, looking out for any open wounds or arrows stuck into him. "He's clean!"

"What the hell did you do!?" Roars Manuela as he swept the place around, on the lookout for more traps. Where there's one, there's probably more.

"N-nothing, I swear man. I saw this hole in the wall a-and-"

"Did you touch anything?"

"No! I didn't!"

"Bullshit, you little _capullo_!" Manuela came up and jabs a finger on the newbie's chest plate. "You just can't seem to keep your hands to yourself can you?"

Muzzie responds by scrambling back up and shoving Manuela back a few steps, "Eh _fuck_ you understand? If I said I didn't touch it means I never touch anything la, _gan ni na_!"

"You better check that tone of yours, boy,"

Both men now stood on the verge of trading blows and while Manuela was taller by at least an entire foot, Muzzie was built like a tank.

"Hey! Hey!" Clarke steps in between and shoves them away from one another. "Lay off the suck, okay guys?"

"I'm cool," huffs Muzzie, a little peeved in having the blame shoved in his face.

Clarke shakes his head. "You," he points to Manuela, "Calm the fuck down and get out of my face."

"I am calm!" he barks and saunters away, a string of Spanish cusses escaping his lips.

"And you," he points to Muzzie now. "Quit fucking around. You jeopardize this team again, I will personally string your sorry ass up to dry, got it?"

"Yeah, I got it." he sighs.

"Found it!" announces the Russian as he squats next to the tile Muhammad had inherently stepped on. The team gathers around to have a look. "Looks like, its some kind of tile rigged to set off the arrow. Better call this in."

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock." deadpans Clarke as his finger snakes its way towards his throat mic's PTT.

"Tango 1 Actual to 0-0, come in over."

There was a pause before the channel clicks open and Dean could be heard along with muffled chatter in his background. "0-0 here, what's the word, Tango 1 Actual?"

"Ah be advised, we've just encountered one of those booby traps left behind by the natives, over."

"Come again with that last, did you just say encountered a booby trap?"

"1 Actual, that's a positive. Muzzie set it off on accident, over."

Muhammad simple rolls his eyes upon hearing that. Great, hell of a way to make him look like he was the cause of it all.

"Jesus, seriously?" says Papa Dean exasperatedly over the comms. "Any casualties, over?"

"None so far, he tripped and the arrow missed, thank God. Looks like the trap he set off came from a tile on the floor. Natives probably bugged it to trigger some kinda arrow, over."

"So, he stepped on something and it triggered the arrow?"

"1 Actual that's a positive, over."

"Understood. This hole in the wall, anything special we should know about?"

"Uh, it's about the size of a fingernail and uh," Clarke rubs a finger on the rim of said hole. "It's shaped like a square and perfectly cut out, over."

"0-0 roger that. All stations, all stations, watch your footing and stay away from any tiny holes in the wall that you may see especially if they're shaped like a square. They're booby traps left behind by the natives. Looks like the temple heads were wrong with their intel about these traps losing their bite. All Tangos, how copy over?"

"1 Actual roger that, over."

"2 Actual, ditto on that last, over."

"Tango 3 Actual, Roger, we'll keep an eye out for those hazards, over."

"Tango 4 Actual, the hell you talkin' about man? We're too busy enjoying the barbecue up here on the surface to worry about booby traps, care to join us?"

"Fuck off, 4 Actual. Enjoy your barbecue though, 0-0 out."

"1 Actual, this is 3 Actual. Uhh, we found a couple of those holes you described in our AO. Many thanks for the heads up, over."

"No problem, Tango 1 out."

For the next hour or so, Tango 1 spent their time slowly combing over their sector for more of those little 'Death Holes' as Manuela calls them. They've found plenty alright, most of which were positioned strategically by the entrance and it was a miracle nobody tripped them on the way in.

"So we've got," Muzzie began counting the little holes now covered with thick yellow duct tapes. They won't stop the arrows punching through but they will serve as a warning to other friendlies nearby. "2, 4, 6, 8 of these little fucking-"

"9," Clarke points to a hole he'd missed. "You missed out the first one over there."

"Oh yeah, 9 little death holes it is." murmurs the Singaporean as he tapes it up.

"We don't know for sure which of the tiles will spring the arrows so best thing we can do for now is watch our steps. Hopefully we'll find the ruby soon, I don't like the idea of being stuck here for too long with these arrows poised to pick us off with one wrong move."

"Amen to that."

"You know, you should really go talk to the 'Spic."

"Been meaning to but, I'm not sure if he's still pissed at me."

"Fuck that, just go on. Talk to him man, kiss and make up, whatever. We're a unit, we need to work together to survive this and I can't afford to have you two having a break down here in this goddamn place."

"Hmm," the newbie contemplates those words of wisdom spoken by his acting team leader. "Know what? Maybe I will go talk to him."

Reaching out to the Mexican wasn't as...difficult as Muzzie had thought it would be. Turns out the man cools down just as fast as he was to blow up.

They re-connected through a smoke, sharing their point-of-views and criticisms over what happened earlier on.

"-shit man, you're not gonna last long with that kinda behavior. You're curious, I get it, it comes with being a fucking greenhorn but not out here, bro. One wrong move and you're going home in a body bag. Out here," Manuela gestures with a whirl of his finger. "everything's out to killya. The weather, the humping, the heat, the terrain, that crazy archer chick. I just wanna get home and spend my money, know what I'm saying? I'm sure you do too and I need your head in the game cos you're one of us now and like it or not, Muzzie, you _are_ the weakest link in this entire expedition. In terms of experience, in terms of training, you're way behind and I'm really tryna look out for ya. So if you're gonna play 'Detective Conan' at least give us a lil heads up."

"Detective Conan? seriously? Aren't you a little too old for that?"

The Mexican shrugs. Well, guess that's something new he's learned about his fellow teammate. "You get my point, man."

"I do, I do. And...I'm sorry about...you know? Just now..."

"Nah, don't worry about it. Tempers fly, its real common in this line of work."

"Yeah, with the uh, ahem, high stress environment and all."

An awkward silence permeates between the two as they quietly continued puffing on their smokes.

"So," the Mexican began with an exhale. "I heard you got into a fight with Croft early this morning."

Immediately the newbie's face turned a bright shade of red, much to the older man's amusement. "Oh no, oh no no no, we are not having this right now."

"Oh yes we are, bro. C'mon, spill it _ese_ , I wanna hear the good stuff."

"Well, she kicked my ass real good that's what happened." Muzzie scratches the back of his neck. "Wha-what else did you hear?"

Manuela bit back a chuckle. "They told me you got your head stuck in between her legs. Aaaand ~ you bit her in the thighs. Lucky bastard, she thicc man."

"Wait, wait, what!? Who...who told you that!?" screeches Muhammad in horror. "There wasn't anyone else in the tent besides...wait, did Walter tell you that?"

 _Motherfucker!_ _mother-fucker!_

"Word travel fast bruh, your little MMA showdown with Croft was the talk of the whole camp this afternoon."

Well that explains why some of the guys were giving him strange looks throughout the whole day.

"It was in self-defense I mean, she got out and she jumped me." He left out the part that it was partly his fault for _sitting_ right in front of her _and_ taunting her to come at him. "So, naturally I fought back but it didn't went the way of what you have in mind."

"So the headlock and biting her in the legs, it didn't happen then?"

"W..well it did, but-"

"Aha! Now we're getting somewhere!" The younger man could only sigh in resignation. "So did you like it? Aha~ you animal!"

Maybe it was for the best if he did actually die back in the tent. Saves him the emotional torture he was going through right now.

"Dude, I was getting the life choked out of me!" exclaims Muhammad, "I don't think anyone in their right mind could get off in that kind of situation."

"You'd be surprised, kid. The world is full of weird shit. That's why tentacle hentai exists,"

"The fuck? Oh come on." The younger mercenary gave a facepalm. "God, I can't believe we're even having this conversation. Why are you doing this to me man?

"Just busting your balls Mo-mo, lighten up a little."

"What's this about tentacle hentai?" a new voice joins in. Turning around, Muhammad sees Dean by the entrance, hands on his hips and a lopsided grin on his face.

" _Jefe,_ " nods the Mexican.

 _'Oh no._ _Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse.'_

"How much did you hear, boss?" sighs the newbie.

"Enough."

"Oh..." moans the Singaporean.

"Chill man, we ain't gonna judge you. She's a pretty little thing if I do say so myself. But back to the topic at hand, c'mon lets hear it, kid."

"No! There wasn't...wasn't anything weird goin' on in my head when she was...you know?"

Manuela and Dean shake their heads in disbelief.

"Okay, maybe a little."

They shake their heads some more.

"Alright, fine! I did kinda like it...alot! There! Happy now!"

"Very."

"Yep."

They nod. He flips them off in reply.

"But seriously though," Dean's voice takes on a serious edge. "Word of advice, she's still an enemy combatant and our... _distant associates_ want her out of the picture ASAP. Whatever it is you have in your head I want you to make sure it stays in your head. Last thing I need is a turncoat with a soft spot for her."

The hired guns refer to the Order simply as their ' _distant associates'_. This serves to further alienate Trinity from any...mishaps that may occur on the ground.

"Hey, hey, c'mon man," sighs Muhammad, a little bit annoyed at his team leader's lack of faith in him. "I'm not gonna turn out like that fucking Stormtrooper who went rogue all because shit feels like its the right thing to do. Yeah she's hot, she's smart and all but forfeiting your life away and shooting at your own buddies cuz of a woman doesn't sound sensible. This isn't hollywood where eveything's gonna fall into place by plot armor and it all turns out right in the end. This is reality we're talking about. There's consequences here and the last thing I need is a hit-squad turning up at my front door."

"Finally! A man who thinks with his brains and not his dick, someone give him a medal." chuckles Dean, slapping the newbie at the back of his vest.

"Oh yeah, totally amigo, totally." but then the Mexican turns to Dean and whispers in his ear. "I lost him when he said 'Stormtrooper', what the fuck's he talking about?"

"Ah, its that guy from that new Star Wars movie. The Stormtrooper who became a rebel."

"The what now?"

"The black guy, dumbass!"

"The one who got it on with that fat ass, Asian chick?"

"That's the one."

"Oh.. _Oh!"_ finally he understands.

 _Goddamnit Manuela._

"Anyways, Joshua's boys are gonna take care of it as soon as we find that damn stone, _Jefe_." shrugs Manuela as he flicks the empty cigarette butt away. "What're you so worried about anyways?"

 _God-fucking-damnit Manuela!_

"The problem is," Dean patiently explains, "Croft has a reputation for _not_ staying dead."

"If you're so worried, why not just kill her right away? Walter put you in charge right so can't you just overrule his word?"

"Therein lies another problem. We need what's in her head." Dean taps the side of his head. "She's like a fucking child prodigy when it comes to these things, which is why I've sent her with Tango 3 to sniff out that ruby. Immediately upon visual confirmation of the ruby, Joshua is to terminate her on the spot. She's too dangerous to be kept alive yet too useful to be put to waste. Call it pragmatism or whatever but once she's outlived her usefulness she dies. I am not taking any fucking chances with her."

Muzzie felt a little uneasy at the direction this conversation was going. They were casually discussing ending someone else's life, true, Croft has it coming but still...

"What makes you so sure she'll help us?" the newbie cocks his head sideways.

"She won't which is why I've kept her in the dark. She thinks she's going somewhere deeper into the temple to die, but the truth is-"

"You're sending her along for the ride with Tango 3, smart."

"And if she's anything like what I've read over the reports, she'll find what it is we're looking for."

"And that's when Joshua's gonna _pew pew?_ " Dean gave a nod.

"Bet he won't kill her right away." Manuela fishes out a protein bar and began munching away. "Mmf, he wants some payback for Lang and all those poor fuckers she wasted last night, remember?"

"Oh trust me, he will if he wants to continue being on the payroll. I've even promised him induction into the Deacon program if he does as told. Consider it an incentive for him to follow my orders to the letter,"

As if on cue, the radio net fizzes to life. "Uh, Command, this is Tango 3 Actual come in over!" There was a strong sense of urgency in his voice, desperation or excitement Muhammad couldn't tell.

"0-0 here, what do you have for me, 3 Actual?"

"Uh, remember that hidden passageway you told me to keep an eye out for? We found it! Well Croft was the one who found it but you get my point, over." Muhammad felt a smile light stretch across his face. Finally, _finally_ its almost over.

"0-0, do you have visual confirmation of the ruby?"

"3 Actual, that's a negative but the hidden passageway leads to a smaller chamber. We...think it may be inside, over."

"0-0 roger that, stay where you are I'm coming to you, over."

"Copy that, Command. We're holding position by sector 12, over."

"Roger that Tango 3, what's the status of the prisoner, over?"

"Secure, want me to get rid of her now?"

"Negative, negative. Hold. Stick to the plan, until we find that ruby she stays breathing. D'you copy?"

"Roger that, holding position, over."

"Alright, See you soon, 0-0 out."

"Everyone heard that?" Dean addresses Tango 1. They all nod in affirmation, all smiles. "Good, stay here and be ready to move. Its almost coming to an end people, just hang in there."

With that, he walked off.

Back in the Infantry, the officers would signal the end of a mission by calling out _'Paradise now, paradise now'_ over the net. He can't help but feel how apt those words sounded right now. This operation certainly has been quite the experience for him. First mission for Trinity and he's seen death, he nearly died not once but twice, and then there's Lara Croft. Need he say more?

A gunshot suddenly belched through the palpable silence, the sound coming from further in. Muzzie deduces that must be where Tango 3 was holding.

"The hell?" Clarke frantically screws his water canteen back on and got to his feet, while Tyoma and Manuela exchanged a look.

 _'Wait, gunshot? Then that means-'_

"Tango 3, this is 0-0, we heard weapons discharge. Have you found the ruby, over?" their comms sprang to life, seems like Dean had the exact same thing in mind.

Nothing.

"Tango 3, tango 3, come in. Do you have the package in your possession? Is Croft dead? Acknowledge, over."

The same icy chill settles once more in his gut, the hairs on the back of his neck standing ramrod straight on end.

"Got a bad feeling about-"

"Don't jinx it, _ese_ ," chides the Mexican as he blows his nose. "Agh, goddamn dust."

More gunshots went off, rapid snap shots at first but then it was drowned out by the burp of someone going full automatic. "Okay, that's _not_ good!" gulps the newbie, nobody said otherwise to shut him up.

Someone screams into the net and it wasn't Joshua. "All stations! This is Tango 3, Croft is loose! I say again, Croft is loose!"

 _Uh-oh._

"Calm down," says Dean almost immediately. "Where's Joshua?"

"D-dead! She's ripping us to pieces man!"

"Dammnit, I'll send Logan to reinforce. Just hold your ground and keep pouring suppressive fire, how copy, over?"

"No good, no good! Holy shit she's tearing us up! I need- urkkkkhhhh!"

For five seconds, everyone was treated to the chilling sound of the man gurgling wetly over the net as sporadic bursts of gunfire goes off in the background, further setting the mood.

His final moments was transmitted across the general net for another good ten seconds before the radio mercifully clicks off. Even those on the surface heard him dying.

"That was...that was Hendricks wasn't it?" Clarke frowns to which nobody said anything.

Muzzie grips his gun so hard he was sure his knuckles had turned an unhealthy pale shade of white beneath the full fingered-gloves he wore. And he had just spoken to the guy about a few hours ago! And now he's...dead?

 _'Oh fuck me.'_

"Logan, get your boys and move in to support Tango 3!" Dean barks over the channel, huffing as he goes. "Tango 1, rendezvous with me at sector 10, now!"

"1 Actual, wilco! We're oscar mike, over!" Clarke hisses back over the net.

"Aye, sar', we're on the mewv, now!" rumbles the Scot over the comms.

"3-3 here! It's just me and Garett now. We've lost sight of her but - oh fuck me, behind you!" The line was abruptly cut yet one could hear the two survivors pouring on the firepower.

"Damn it, 'ang in there Tango 3!" cries the Scot over the net.

Muzzie could hear stomping, shouting and the crashing of booted feet as Tango 2 raced towards the sound of ominous gunfire.

"Tango 4, this 0-0, your mission parameters have changed. If you do not hear from us 3-0 mikes from now, assume all blue forces KIA. Set the explosives off to seal her in, over."

 _What!?_

"4 Actual, roger that. Good hunting brother, may God be with you, Dean."

"And you too, Sebastian. 0-0, out."

Muzzie looks to Tyoma who nervously swallows. "W-we're dead."

 _'No no, fuck that! I am not gonna die in this fucking place!'_

"The hell we ain't. Get your asses wired, your safeties off and prepare to move out!" barks Clarke, weapon in hand.

"Fuck that, I'm not going in there!" Tyoma yelps, fear getting the best of him.

"The fuck's the matter with you?"

"Fuck this, we ain't got no time for this." Manuela came up and gave him a tight slap, "Get a grip on yourself, _capullo!_ "

Muzzie scratches his head in confusion. This was a man with almost 3 years of warfighting experience. So why in the fuck is he loosing his shit right now? If anything it should to be _him_ in that position!

"Didn't you hear that fucking sound over the radio? That's what's going to happen to us if we fight her!"

 _'Oh for fuck's sakes!'_

Like an angry tidal wave, Muzzie crashes into the Russian, his elbow pinning the delirious man to the wall.

"You listen here, fucking snow white!" Hisses the Singaporean. "I'm scared too, alright? We're all scared but we got a job to do. Were you afraid when Croft rampaged her way through the camp last night?"

Artyom quietly shakes his head.

"No."

"No, right? Then why are you freaking out now?"

Artyom says nothing to that.

"Eh, lemme ask you ah, do you want to go home or not?" Artyom nods his head slowly. "Then wake up your bloody idea soldier! She's one person, we are many!"

As Muzzie takes a step back, he sees a tiny semblance of Tyoma's fighting spirit returning in his eyes. Letting out a deep breath, he wipes his eyes and blew his nose. "Okay, okay. Let's go kill this bitch."

"Jeez, Arty, even Mo-mo's grown a pair." chuckles Manuela much the Russian's annoyance.

"Can it, asshat. Lets move!"

As they barreled their way to RV with their team leader, Muzzie realizes the gunshots have stopped.

"3-3, 3-3, this is 0-0, why have you stopped firing, over?"

No response.

"Tango 3, Tango 3, why have you stopped firing, over?"

"Dean, this is 2 Actual. We've just entered Sector 12. Its a mess here. We got bullet-holes, we got blood and lots of bodies." A pause. "No survivors."

"Fuck!" snarls Dean over the comms. "Any sign of Croft?"

"Negative, negative, we've just started sweeping the- shite, wait 1, over."

"Goddamnit, Logan I can't have you cutting me off right now. I need eyes on the ground, pronto!"

"Oh fock me, I've got a missing man!" Logan sounded scared shitless and if he's panicking then Muzzie had every reason to panic. "W-woods, I-I was just talking tah' him! Oh fock me!"

"Get a grip Logan, Croft is still in your AO! Find her and kill her!" Not a moment later, the men of Tango 1 could hear the angry bark of more gunfire.

Tyoma chose the worst possible moment to make his opinion heard. "We're dead, we're so-"

"Arty, you make another sound, I swear to God I will shoot you myself!" Clarke turns and shoves his weapon right up in the Russian' face. "Last warning, pull yourself together!"

"Woahwoahwoah! Chill, just take it easy. Okay?" Muzzie and Manuela came in and gently extricated both men away from each other. Turning to the Russian, Muzzie sighs.

"We-we gotta keep moving. It's gonna be alright. Here," he hands the Russian a gummy who earnestly popped it into his mouth. "Better?"

He nods, hands cradling the '74 close to his chest. "I'm okay, just...just that sound. I-it was-"

"I know, it spooked me too."

"But I'm good now. I'm good. We can keep going," says the Russian.

"Dean, c-come in, urkkkk." heaves Logan over the net. A throaty gargle punctuates his plea.

 _'Oh man, not you too Bear.'_ Muhammad's grip on the carbine began to slacken. There was a tightening feeling in his chest as though someone had stuck a knife in and twisted. He realizes he was tearing up a little as well.

Logan was one of the few contractors who treated Muzzie like family and he loved the big guy. So much so that the newbie calls him _Bear_ for his protective nature and his large physique. The Scot may be a hot-head in the field but he was one of those people to go to whenever in need of companionship and comfort.

Listening to what could be his final moments, whimpering over the radio was... _painful_.

"Shit, I'm here Logan." Dean was...abnormally calm. He wasn't shouting anymore.

"I'm sorreh Dean, urkkk. Sh-sh-she tore us apart. Buh-baited m-me t-to one of those focking...hrghhhh-"

"...Logan, you there?"

There was no response. Muzzie felt his shoulders involuntary sagging as he jogged to the rendezvous point. _'Goodbye, Bear.'_

"Croft, I know you can fucking hear me." Dean's tone of voice was deathly quiet now. It was devoid of emotion, there was only hatred and it came in spades. "And I want you to know this. Enough is enough. I'm coming for you."

Muzzie could feel the _rage_ emanating from his team leader over the radio and he drew strength from that. Right now, Dean was at the very center of his anger. The eye of the storm. His Captain Ahab.

Muhammad wanted vengeance too.

For Logan, one of the few veterans to actually give a shit about the new bumbling contractor when he first joined them. For Garett who would not be coming back to celebrate his 32nd birthday. For Lang who suffered 6 hours into the night covered in third-degree burns before finally succumbing to his wounds. For Woods who won't be coming home to see his firstborn child.

For all the now-deceased colleagues he broke bread with, smoked with and suffered with throughout the entire time frame since he was posted in this outfit. He wanted to get his hands dirty to stab her, choke the life out of her, anything that'll sate his need for revenge.

The reply came almost immediate, the comms hissing to life, dead air and static filling the channel up.

For a moment Muzzie thought it may be a fellow comrade who somehow survived, trying to reach out to them but all that changed when a sultry British accented voice spoke through. "Can't wait."

The radio clicks off.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **And that's the end of the chapter. Originally I'd planned to shift things into Lara's perspective but it seems I've got carried away. To be honest this chapter would have been out a lot sooner if _someone_ had saved their work. That someone is me :(**

 **My mistake set me back nearly almost three days worth of re-write and it is a _bitch_ re-typing everything nearly word for word. Of course this one has turned out totally different than what I had in mind but I can honestly say that I've poured my heart and soul into this. As always, do review, follow and send me a PM. I'm always happy to chat...even though I'm kinda introverted in real life. Ahh, the beauty of ****anonymity I say.**

 **In the next episode of Dragonball Z...oh wait, wrong franchise.**

 **Anyways, next chapter we'll be switching over from Lara's perspective from the moment she broke free and slaughtered all the poor bastards standing in her way to her [SPOILER ALERT]. See you guys next month.**

 **Glossary:**

 **Chao Chibai: Hokkien for _Fucking Cunt_**

 **Jefe** **: Spanish for _Boss_**

 **Ese: Spanish for _Dude_**

 **Bilyad: Russian for _Fuck_**

 **Ching Chong: Seriously? Do I really gotta explain to you what this is?**

 **Spic: Racial slur for Hispanics / Mexicans**

 **Gan Ni Na: Hokkien for _Fuck your mother_**

 **Ordo In Gloria: Latin for _Glory to the Order_**

 **Et sic non erit et aeternum: Latin for _And may it be forever so_**

 **Capullo: Spanish for _Dickhead_**

 **Thicc:** **A slang term for a full-figured body, specifically a big butt and curvy waist. It is both used sexually and humorously.**


End file.
